Badgerblood: Awakening

by S. C. Monson

  Fury boiled up in Kor, blocking out his pain for the time being. “He attacked me.” He lifted his shirt and vest, and peeled up the bandages on his left side. A pale mark showed on his skin, just above his staghide pants. “He attacked me,” Kor repeated, letting his clothes drop back. “A borlan killed that man. Not me.” He lifted his chin to glare at Merrick.

  The prince’s gaze went to the scar on Kor’s neck and he leaned forward. Kor glanced at Leon as the king spoke.

  “Your word is hardly dependable testimony. And the scar proves nothing. Prince Merrick, continue.”

  Kor clenched his teeth. “I didn’t kill your man.”

  Leon eyed him coolly. “And yet his dead and mangled body was found the next day, just outside the forest.” He leaned forward with a sneer. “Really—Kor, is it? If you wanted to avoid suspicion, you might have at least kept the evidence.” He fell back in his throne, gesturing at Merrick to continue.

  Kor rose in protest, but the soldiers cuffed him back to his knees and Merrick started reading again.

  “In accordance with the law, I hereby sentence you to death…” The prince hesitated.

  “Go on,” Leon said.

  “Any and all guilty of harboring the accused will hereafter be deemed traitors to the king and shall suffer the same fate,” Merrick continued in a small voice. “Inasmuch as the prisoner has already confessed two such individuals—the miller Eliker McPherson, and his daughter Serah, who have since been taken into custody—” He spoke the names haltingly and looked at the king, eyes wide. There was an audible gasp from Lady Allinor, and Kor struggled against the soldiers.

  “Go on, go on,” Leon said impatiently.

  Merrick rushed through the last line. “These, too, shall be executed with the prisoner.”

  “No.” Kor’s face, already gaunt and pale, went a shade paler at the declaration. “They’ve done nothing.”

  Leon nodded to the soldiers. “Return this murderer to the prison.”

  Kor struggled against the men dragging him back. Commander Veen opened his mouth, but it was Allinor who spoke first. “Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider.”

  The king raised a hand and the soldiers stopped. All eyes turned on Allinor as Leon nodded for her to continue.

  She drew a quick breath. “Eliker and Serah shared food and shelter with me when I needed it. And—” She hesitated and finally met Kor’s eyes. “This man saved my life.”

  Kor stared. He finally recognized the features under the powder and rouge—the slightly upturned nose, the auburn hair, and of course the intense amber eyes. Her countenance had appeared duller in the indoor lighting and weighed down in all her finery. “Len?”

  “You know this criminal?” Queen Rhoswen sounded flabbergasted.

  Ignoring them both, Allinor met Leon’s gaze. Without breaking eye contact, she drew herself up taller and answered her mother’s question. “If not for him, I would be dead. Surely in such a case, there is room for mercy.”

  “Whether he saved your life or not, Lady Allinor, he still stands accused of murder.” Leon’s tone bordered on patronizing. “I cannot allow such a crime to go unpunished. Nor can I afford to let those who sheltered him go free.”

  “If that is the case,” Allinor said quietly, “then your decree must apply to me as well. I helped bandage his wounds…” She paused to lend emphasis to her next words. “After he saved my life.”

  “Allinor!” Rhoswen was nearly beside herself with shock.

  But her daughter just took a step toward Leon and continued. “I do not deny that the law-breaker must answer for his crimes, sire. However, a life for a life seems a reasonable bargain. Grant Kor and his friends their lives as they secured mine.”

  The king shifted in his seat and reached in his waistcoat pocket. “A life for a life, perhaps…” he said, fingering an object in the pocket.

  Kor’s gaze was drawn to it. Merrick’s, too, it seemed, though no one else appeared to notice. After a moment, Kor recognized the object as his pendant. He started forward, but the soldiers held him back.

  Leon caught Kor’s eye and he tapped the pendant with his finger as though taunting him. “But you are bartering for three,” he continued, addressing Allinor. “One of which belongs to a murderer.”

  Kor flinched. The ashen fingers from his nightmare edged their way into his mind again, and the nightmare-woman’s voice followed in an exhortation he didn’t fully understand. Remember your blood, remember me.

  The gentle admonition was soon drowned out, countered by the deep voice he’d heard in his mind before. Murderer. You killed her. Kor nearly collapsed under the hideous accusation as intense guilt for the nightmare-woman’s death threatened to overwhelm him.

  Commander Veen hopped lightly onto the dais without using the steps. “Perhaps, Your Majesty,” he said, before Allinor could speak again, “leniency in this case may prove fruitful.” He gave Leon a knowing look. The king glared back and the commander leaned down to whisper in his ear.

  A pleased expression broke through Leon’s frown. He leaned back in his chair, releasing the pendant. It slid back into the confines of his pocket. He stroked his mustache and beard as he studied Kor, then seemed to come to a decision. “Very well. I rescind the death order for all those accused.”

  Kor held his gaze, waiting for the addendum.

  Leon gave it with a smile. “They will be sent to the Isle instead. Commander Veen, see to it.”

  “No, wait.” Kor gave a grunting shout as he tried to tear free of the soldiers, but they held him fast and dragged him from the room. Commander Veen followed.

  25

  Merrick stared at the doors, still reeling from the proceedings and wondering why the prisoner’s scar and the item in his father’s pocket seemed so familiar. Gradually, his attention returned to the conversation taking place around him. Queen Rhoswen was apologizing.

  “—my daughter’s actions were inexcusable.”

  “She is young,” Leon said, glancing at Merrick. “Youth are easily swayed by their peers,” he added under his breath.

  At that, Merrick dropped his gaze. It had been Allinor’s idea from the start, to go looking for her flower alone. Though, he admitted to himself, he had encouraged her with tales of his own secret excursions beyond the castle grounds.

  Rhoswen didn’t seem to hear Leon’s last comment. “We must make restitution,” she said. “Perhaps we can negotiate a contract to expand your access to our trade waters and mining islands.”

  Leon feigned uncertainty. Under the surface, Merrick knew his father was brimming with eager anticipation. The prince listened as they spoke, rolling his coin over his knuckles to calm his nerves. His gaze fell on Leon’s lumpy waistcoat pocket. He pondered on the round object he had seen his father fingering during the hearing and the badger head carved into its center. He couldn’t remember having seen it before, but it, like the scar, seemed to nudge his memories.

  “—isn’t that so, Allinor…Allinor?” Rhoswen was standing beside the antechamber door at the back of the dais now. Her daughter looked at her. “Well?” Rhoswen prompted.

  “Yes, quite,” came the weak reply. The young princess looked pale. It was obvious she didn’t know what she was agreeing to. Rhoswen twitched her head at the door and they both left.

  As Merrick started to follow, his father rose from his throne. “One moment, Merrick.” His voice was quiet, but commanding. “The parchment.”

  Reluctantly, Merrick turned back, avoiding eye contact as he held out the paper. Leon snatched it from him and waved it over the side of the dais, calling to the scribe on the stool.

  “Pilfry, take the parchment and leave us,” he said without taking his eyes off his son. “Inform the guards we are not to be disturbed.”

  For a moment, Merrick clenched and unclenched his jaw, then he rolled the coin over his knuckles, trying to appear relaxed and uncaring. The scribe flipped his heavy tome shut and the sound echoed around the chamber. He gathered the bo
ok in his arms and scurried to the dais, jumping up to reach the paper. After several futile hops, Leon sighed loudly and lowered his hand. Pilfry finally caught hold of the parchment and tucked it in his record book. Merrick watched in amusement as the short man scampered from the room.

  “Sit,” Leon said, gesturing to the empty throne beside his.

  With the order, a familiar defiance rose in Merrick. He approached, eyed the magnificently carved throne, then leaned against it. Ever since his mother’s death years ago, he had refused to sit in it. His father exhaled through his nose, a heavy, close-mouthed breath, then seemed to choose to ignore the prince’s refusal.

  “That was a bold move, inviting the queen and her daughter to this private hearing. Bold move indeed. Why did you do it?”

  Merrick smirked at the question and began rolling his coin. He hadn’t invited them. Not intentionally anyway. “Does it matter?” he asked dully, watching the copper. “It provided an advantage you’ve been seeking for years. She’s willing to negotiate about her mining islands now. On top of that, one of your most wanted criminals”—he placed heavy emphasis on the word—“has been sentenced to life on the Isle. I should think you’d be celebrating.”

  A stony silence filled the room. Merrick resisted the urge to look up. Sweat beaded between his shoulder blades and cut a clammy trail down his spine. Too far, he thought. That was too far. Half the time he couldn’t help it. The gap between what he wanted from his father and what he received was too wide. And the wideness left a gaping hole that fed his flippant attitude. An attitude he maintained to conceal his aching soul.

  His father started to chuckle. After waiting a moment, Merrick raised his eyes without moving his head. With one last breathy chortle, Leon sat down on his throne and leaned back into the corner.

  “We are not so different, you and I,” he said, looking up at Merrick. “You’ll make an excellent successor to the throne one day.”

  In an almost imperceptible movement, Merrick caught the rolling copper and drew it into his palm, squeezing so hard it left an imprint. “What if I don’t want the throne?” What if I don’t want to be you? He couldn’t quite bring himself to speak this last thought aloud.

  Leon cocked his head, eyeing Merrick almost tenderly. “Your mother preferred anonymity to power, much like you.”

  Merrick’s glare faltered.

  “But,” the king continued briskly, “anonymity will not secure your future. And despite her sentiments, your mother filled her role as queen admirably. You will do the same as king.”

  Cheeks flushing anew with anger, Merrick said, “Then as future king, I feel it my duty to inform you I object to your rulings. That miller and his daughter should go free, with a warning perhaps, but free nonetheless.” He knew Serah, though he doubted she would recognize him as the prince. He had met her on his secret disguised outings beyond the castle walls, and Eliker often ground the flour for the castle kitchens. They were good folk as far as he could tell, just trying to make ends meet. “They don’t deserve the Isle,” he said, and turned to leave.

  There was a rustle behind him. “Merrick.” The word cracked around the chamber. “A king demands obeisance from his subjects,” Leon said. “He expects no less from a son. And to those who do not give it, it must be taught.”

  As casually as he dared, Merrick pivoted to face his father. He was nearly as tall as Leon, but when his father drew himself up to his full height, as he did now, the king seemed to tower over him. Merrick fought the impulse to cower, and glared back.

  “I have been considering how best to teach you and decided a change is needed,” Leon continued. “Whereas previously, you were training in the healing arts under Atlar, from here on you will train in the ranks under Commander Veen’s men.”

  “You can’t do that,” Merrick said, scoffing. “A royal’s avocation is always the individual’s choice.”

  “Exceptions can and have been made. Furthermore, my approval for you to train with the ambassadors next year has been rescinded and your soldier’s training will extend into that year as well.”

  “What?”

  “And possibly the next,” Leon said warningly.

  Balling his hands into fists, Merrick bit back an angry retort as visions of lifelong soldier’s training swam before him.

  “You have a place, Prince Heir, and a duty—to me, to your kingdom, and to Salkar. Do not forget it.” The king seemed to relax. “Now that that’s taken care of,” he said lightly, sitting on his throne.

  Merrick clenched his jaw. “Will that be all?”

  Without looking at his son, Leon gestured at the antechamber door. Merrick bowed stiffly and stalked from the room, letting his momentum slam the door after him.

  26

  The day after Kor’s sentencing, Allinor sat at a long table in Leon’s meeting hall. Chattering officials from Tilldor and Perabon surrounded her. She rested her chin in her hand and bobbed one leg over her knee.

  After a moment, her mother nudged her. “Cross at the ankles, dear,” she whispered.

  Sighing, Allinor dropped her leg to comply. How her mother knew what her legs were doing through the table…?

  Perhaps she has charm and can see through wood. She does have a piercing gaze. At the thought of her mother burning holes in the table with her vision, Allinor giggled. Rhoswen glared and Allinor slumped back in the cushioned chair, lapsing into a sulky silence.

  The buzz of negotiations filled the air as men and women from both kingdoms discussed terms regarding Perabon’s access to Tilldor’s more fruitful trade waters and mining islands. The meeting was nearing the hour mark with no end in sight. It would be days before a satisfactory agreement was reached.

  Allinor’s mind wandered back to the hearing. When Merrick mentioned it in the garden, she had suspected the captured prisoner was Kor. It hadn’t been hard to convince her mother of the fabricated invitation. Whenever Allinor displayed interest in governing duties, Rhoswen was eager to support her. However, Allinor’s presence had done little for Kor and his friends. They’d been carted away to the Isle earlier that day, just before the negotiations began.

  She had tried to see Kor before then—she didn’t believe he was a murderer and she couldn’t help feeling his capture was her fault—but the guards refused her entry. And her usual methods of persuasion had failed her. Her charm had fallen flat.

  Again, she crossed her legs, this time in the opposite direction. Maybe I didn’t want to see him. Her leg bobbed furiously at the thought and she chewed on her thumbnail. There must be something I can do.

  “Allinor.” Rhoswen’s sharp reprimand interrupted her thoughts.

  She glanced up, startled. Her mother eyed her hand and Allinor stopped chewing her thumbnail, rubbing her forefinger along her bottom lip instead. After a moment she leaned sideways toward the queen and whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Mother, what’s charm?”

  Rhoswen stiffened.

  Oblivious to the reaction, Allinor continued in a curious tone. “It’s just, I’ve been hearing a little more about charm and magic lately and I was wondering… Do you have it?” The question died on her lips as she looked up.

  The queen of Tilldor’s eyes were wide and blazing, her lips pursed in displeasure as she glared at her daughter. The message was clear—Be silent!

  Under the look, Allinor wilted and clammed up.

  When at last a brief recess was called, Rhoswen excused herself, seized Allinor’s arm, and dragged her from the room. Allinor’s maid trailed after them, but Rhoswen waved her back. “No, Alyss, take your break.”

  Rhoswen didn’t speak again until she and Allinor were secure in the guest chambers where the queen was staying at Perabon castle. As soon as the door was bolted, she turned on her daughter. “Allinor Mariella Cahlei Roose,” she said. “How many times must I scold you before you behave like a princess?”

  “At least once more, apparently,” Allinor said under her breath. “Or perhaps just until you tell me
what charm is?” she added hopefully.

  Rhoswen dropped her voice to a fierce whisper. “Who told you about charm? That murderer you took sides with? Honestly, Allinor, if your father was alive…”

  Allinor rolled her eyes. Her mother still hadn’t forgiven her for evading Perabon’s salt ponds tour, sneaking off, and associating with a criminal. It had taken a lot of convincing just to get Alyss out of trouble for helping to cover for her. “I take it you’re not a charmer, then.”

  “Of course I’m not,” was the tart reply. “Full charmers are rare, Allinor. Very rare. When they happen, they happen only in your father’s line. Not mine. Not anyone else’s. Just Holden’s.”

  “But they are real,” Allinor said, perking up.

  Her mother paced the lush carpeted floor in front of Allinor, maroon dress fluttering behind her. She was a petite woman, like Allinor, but with an even fairer complexion and dark hair, though the latter still had a subtle auburn sheen. Her chin was sharper, too, and her nose more pointed. The features matched her quick wit and sharp intellect. She was every inch the queen Allinor struggled to emulate. It had been easier when her father was alive. Easier for both of them.

  “This explains a good deal,” Rhoswen said. “I should have seen it earlier. Holden mentioned the possibility…”

  “The possibility of what?”

  Rhoswen kept pacing and muttering to herself.

  “Mother.” Allinor caught her arm, repeating more firmly, “The possibility of what?”

  “You, my dear.” The queen gestured vaguely at her. “The possibility of all this.”

  Allinor wrinkled her nose at her in a flat, unappreciative stare.

  Sighing, Rhoswen brought the palms of her hands together. She hooked her thumbs under her chin and tapped the side of her forefingers to pursed lips. Then she drew a breath and spoke. “Allinor.” It was a statement all by itself. Rhoswen pointed her hands, still pressed together, at her daughter. “Your father came from a long line of charmers—individuals with an ancient vein of magic called charm—”