Castle of Lies

by Kiersi Burkhart

  The King nods at Nul se Lan. “With the people of the Klissen as our allies, we have nothing to fear.”

  Nul se Lan surges to his feet, bringing a hand to his chest. “I send word to the Chief, my father, to defend.”

  “Thank you, my future son-in-law.” The King waves a hand at Forgren. “Send a smoke message for him,” he says, and the court wizard nods. “We will move up the wedding to one week from today. To cement our alliance in the face of this threat.”

  I am made of ice. One week. One precious week before I lose Corene forever.

  “Dispatch the city guard to join the Chief’s forces in the South,” the King says. “That should be enough to manage a few elves.”

  My mouth drops open. The city guard is Four Halls’s only defense. Should anything go wrong, we’d only have a few castle guards to defend us.

  “Your Majesty!” Ilisa protests. “That won’t be nearly enough to—”

  “I know what I’m doing.” The King rises laboriously from his chair.

  She isn’t daunted. “May I remind you that your daughter cannot marry under Melidia’s eyes without my blessing.”

  The King’s cheeks puff out in fury, but he says nothing. I’m in awe of the priestess as she stalks out of the war room and slams the door behind her.

  He turns to us. “Don’t listen to the words of a child.”

  I say what I know is expected of me. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  Nul dips his head. “Your instructions I await.”

  “Soon,” the King says, extending a hand toward each of us, “you will both be my sons.”

  Both of us? Does he plan to name Nul se Lan as his heir, instead of me?

  As we leave the war room side by side, in silence, I’m tempted to tell Nul se Lan, I’ve never wanted to be King, you know. You can have it.

  Chapter 3

  Thelia

  When I’m standing in front of Corene’s door, about to knock, I stop to study the nicks scratched into the wood—low enough that an adult couldn’t have made them: C + T.

  Corene and Thelia. I was eleven when I carved this into the door with the dagger Mother made me carry everywhere. Corene begged me not to damage the fine wood in case the Queen found it. We were almost sisters back then, sleeping in the same bed, sitting at the vanity together while our handmaids did our hair, eating and drinking and bathing side by side.

  But Corene always had her secrets. She used to brag about a passage in the walls that the royals could use to escape an attack on the castle. I often asked to see it, but she wouldn’t show me, saying that could compromise their safety.

  She showed Bayled the third day he was in the Holy Kingdom.

  Even after that, I thought she loved me—but I know better now. If she’d really loved me, she wouldn’t have slandered me to the one man I’d ever felt anything for. If she’d really loved me, she wouldn’t have ruined my one chance at happiness.

  Now I just have to get what I need from her and get out. Time to put my lifetime of experience as her best friend to use. With a great inhale, I open the door.

  Corene sits in the very center of her bed, wearing a crimson dress I’ve never seen. She’s let her hair down, and the morning sunlight turns each strand shades of ruby and gold. Her eyes are rimmed in red. A future Queen shouldn’t be this fragile—but it’s good for me.

  “Oh, Corene.” I stretch my arms toward her. “What in the name of the goddess is wrong?”

  Corene buries her face in my shoulder, and fresh tears soak my shirt. I pat her back. Seeing her crying like this makes a place in my chest hurt. I wrap my other arm around her without thinking.

  “The wedding’s been moved up. I’ll be married in less than a week.”

  “What?” I’m so stunned, I completely forget why I’m here. Maybe the King got wind of Corene’s secret engagement after all and decided to get this marriage over with before my flighty cousin changed her mind again.

  “I know.” Corene sniffles. “I would’ve liked more time to transition. To get to know Nul better. To plan the perfect wedding. And say good-bye.”

  “Is your father thinking clearly?” I ask, incredulous. “You can’t plan a whole wedding in a week. Why rush it?”

  “He feels we must act immediately for the security of the kingdom.” She pauses to gather herself. “Thelia, we got terrible news this morning. There’s an army on the move.”

  My fingers freeze on her shoulders. “Who? The Northerners?” Poor Bayled, torn between his loyalty to the King and to his home country.

  Corene extricates herself from my embrace, and I push the stray wet hairs behind her ear. I deserve some recognition for my work today as “Princess’s Best Friend.”

  “Don’t fleg or anything.” She clasps my shoulders. “But the priestesses say that . . . elves are crossing the Great Mountains, through the Southern Pass. Heading straight toward us.”

  She says something else, but it’s lost to a ringing sound in my ears, like the high note priestesses always hit during the solstice chant.

  Elves. Wrinkled, gray skin, like rotting peaches. Knobby long ears. Beady, reflective eyes that can find you anywhere, even in the darkness. Sharpened, gnashing teeth.

  The monsters of my dreams that always had their claws in the edges of my childhood. They’re coming, and they’ll kill us all. They’ll eat Parsifal and Corene right in front of me, one limb at a time, ripping muscle from the bone.

  I hear a noise, high-pitched and keening. The sound isn’t coming out of Corene, whose mouth is now open, her arms trying to hold me up. It’s coming from me.

  Parsifal

  No one has shown up to our history lesson besides me, so there’s no one here except our soggy old tutor to admire the gold tights and shoes I paired today. I do delight, however, in his lectures. Past monarchs of the Holy Kingdom have discovered delightfully unique ways to be terrible. Once there was an inquisition that resulted in a thousand hangings. One king deliberately starved a rebellious lord’s peasants to death. Each was an even bigger moldy turd than the one before him.

  Halfway through our lesson, the door flies open. I expect it to be Thelia or Bayled—any of my errant classmates. Instead, it’s Corene’s handmaid, gasping for breath. “Master Bellisare?”

  I sit up. “What is it?”

  “Lady Thelia,” the handmaid manages. “She’s collapsed. I was told to find you.”

  My throat constricts. My tutor heaves a sigh that feels decades old and excuses me.

  I hurry out into the courtyard and up the huge spiral staircase to Corene’s room in North Hall. Halfway there, I narrowly avoid a collision with Bayled. He smells like a sweaty horse.

  “Where are you headed in such a rush?” His tone is derisive, when usually he forces himself to be polite.

  “Corene’s room.” I push past him. Bayled’s footsteps echo behind me up the stairs and down the hall. I throw open the second door.

  Corene kneels on the floor next to her bed, rocking Thelia in her arms. My cousin keens in a way that resembles an injured dog, her face hidden under wavy black hair.

  I crouch beside Corene and hold out my hands. She gratefully slides Thelia into my arms and scoots away, like we’re contaminated. I dab the sweat from Thelia’s forehead as she stares blankly at the ceiling.

  Corene stands over us until Bayled enters and sits cross-legged on her bed. She sinks onto the blanket beside him. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she whimpers, tears pooling in her eyes. She’s always been wonderful at drawing attention to herself—even in the midst of someone else’s crisis.

  I know what to do. Drawing Thelia against my chest, I place equal pressure on her head and her back. Her limbs are stiff, curled up like a fetal chicken’s. I look up at Corene. “What happened?”

  “I told her the news,” Corene says, more to Bayled than to me.

  Bayled makes an annoyed noise. “You know she has that phobia.”

  Oh. That phobia. The hairs stand up all over my arms,
up my back, to my neck. Now it makes sense. Corene looks stricken. “She asked what was going on, so I told her. I didn’t think she’d . . . leave her mind like this.”

  I roll my eyes. Thelia’s still here—she’s just stuck in a loop with a cast of invisible monsters. “Let’s get her onto the bed.”

  Bayled climbs down and kneels in front of me, and I shift Thelia into his arms. He hoists her up like she’s nothing. Melidia damn his toned muscles.

  While I call for Corene’s handmaid and send her to fetch water, Bayled tries to communicate with Thelia—asking questions, touching her face, clasping her hands in his. If she were aware enough to witness it, she’d be in raptures.

  Corene’s eyes narrow as Bayled rubs Thelia’s arms, trying to warm her up. She’s finally noticed. I don’t have the heart to tell Bayled he’s not doing it right—that compression works better than repetitive motions. When we were younger and Thelia had these sorts of episodes, I’d pile heavy blankets on top of her and stay quiet until she stopped shivering.

  “There aren’t any elves here,” Bayled tells her earnestly. “Don’t worry. A whole country stands between them and you. You’re safe.”

  It’s not even a very good lie. Thelia starts keening again. I need to interfere, despite Bayled’s good intentions.

  I crouch down beside them and stroke her hair. I know how she secretly loves it—it reminds her of having a handmaid. “I’m sorry I even brought them up the other day,” I say. “I was only trying to goad you.”

  Corene leans her mouth close to my ear. “The elves are coming,” she whispers, voice trembling. “The priestesses told us this morning. That’s why my wedding has been moved up—so I can secure Nul’s loyalty, and the Klissen, should the long ears invade.”

  Of course she’s managing to make this about herself. “What happens if the Klissen falls?”

  Her face contorts. “Don’t you dare suggest it. The Chief will defend his lands. And Dad sent our city guard to reinforce him.”

  I gape at her. “You’re saying we’re defenseless?”

  She shrugs. “As the Goddess says, don’t jealously guard that which you don’t need.”

  It’s never been harder not to laugh in Corene’s face, so I turn back to Thelia, who appears to have calmed down. Her head is pressed against Bayled’s chest. Ah—taking full advantage of her situation. I sit beside them. “How are you feeling, Theels?”

  She turns her head so I can see both her eyes, but she stays close to Bayled. “I think I’ll live.”

  “It’s not worth getting upset about,” says Bayled, as if Thelia’s fits have the ability to logically discriminate. “The elves could be moving for any reason. We haven’t done anything.”

  “We exist,” Thelia croaks. “That’s enough.”

  I frown at her. This was what mystified me most when we were young—why her strange little mind decided that creatures we hadn’t seen in millennia were her own personal demons. Our temples in Frefois were filled with statues of demons, to honor Melidia’s saving of us from their endless torture. I have to wonder if Thelia’s nervous tendency has meshed them together—and if she’s that far off the mark.

  “What else did the priestesses say?” I ask Bayled as he hovers over Thelia. If the Goddess really does talk to her priestesses, surely she’s told them something useful.

  Bayled shakes his head. “The King wouldn’t let Priestess Ilisa get a word in.”

  Typical. “He’s an arrogant prick,” I say.

  Corene glares at me. “Dad knew her ideas were all gobble.”

  “Well, it’s gobble to send that tiny force of city guards to the South,” I retort. “We can’t trust the hillmen to fight off a horde of elves. We should be gathering the whole Kingdom’s army.”

  “Be careful,” Corene says, her voice dropping. “He’s your King. What you’re saying sounds a lot like treason.”

  Thelia’s eyes go wide as plates. “The King sent away the city guard?”

  “Yes,” Bayled admits. I could laugh. The monsters will come knocking and find nothing in their way. He hesitates before adding, “The King smelled of alcohol when he decided that.”

  Corene glares at him, betrayed. “He was having a glass of sweet wine with breakfast, Bayled!”

  “Corene,” he says quietly. “It’s never just one glass.” She looks aghast, and Bayled puts a hand on hers. “How can he make wise decisions for the Kingdom in that state?”

  So Bayled knows that the King he’s served so loyally all these years can’t be trusted to rule. Even that gullible trit would be better at the job—but he’d never be willing to do the dirty deed and step over Hindermark’s body to take the throne for himself. So we’ll probably all die.

  “He can barely find the pot when he’s had a bottle,” I say. “How do you expect him to win a war?”

  Sapphire

  First we left the towering trees of Viteos behind. Then we crossed the bare, unforgiving cliffs of the Red Mountains—and survived. But as our force descends, the windy peaks shrinking to hills and rippling grass, a sense of unease grows in my throat.

  I have never seen land that breathes like this as the wind blows over it. It’s so distinctly foreign on this side of the continent. We do not belong here. We are strangers. And yet that is what makes us ideal for this work.

  We are not attached or entangled. We can see with neutral eyes the threat these mere humans don’t even know is lurking under their feet—and we will save all of us.

  Our small reconnaissance team moves quickly, uninterrupted by forest or rocky terrain. Even my tireless legs begin to ache as we cover league after league, steering clear of small hamlets and herd animals. The smell of Magic is here, but weak. Our great mother is a sad shadow of herself, a thin dribble of water that stubbornly keeps going though all the creatures here have rejected it.

  We sleep under a rock overhang, and frigid autumn rain falls during the night. Ferah, the most talented Magicker among the Jaguars, reaches for the threads of Magic that always surround us. She invites it to her, pulling her hands through the air to gather it up like yarn. And yet, nothing. The strands are so scarce and emaciated, all she can make is a ball of pale blue light the size of a thumb.

  We give up on fire and lie with our bodies close together. My wisp creeps out of the pouch at my hip and tucks itself under my chin, lending this small burst of heat. Our edges are cold and wet, but the Magic burning inside our hearts keeps us warm.

  We resume before the sun rises.

  That evening, Ellze and I sit by the river, watching the rest of the contingent strip off their clothes and leap into the frigid water. I try not to stare at the Commander, or his perfect muscle structure, or the water dripping down his exposed hips to the silver tendrils of hair climbing up.

  Zylion, another Jaguar, surfaces from his swim and joins us, pushing his wet purple hair out of his eyes. He follows my gaze to the Commander.

  “I find it to be a personal affront how unbelievably attractive he is,” he says.

  I smile. “Honestly, it is painful.”

  “You should tell him to cease at once. Put that rear end away, at least.”

  Ellze gives us a disapproving look. “Everyone can see you ogling.”

  Zylion and I both turn our heads and pretend to be speaking intimately about something—instead of staring at Commander Valya’s flawless construction. Shaking his head, Ellze disappears into the water like a fish.

  My eyes drift back to the Commander, floating on his back beside Ferah. “Ellze keeps tossing you glances,” Zylion says.

  I make a gagging sound. “I would prefer to pull an eel out of the water and put my tongue down its throat.”

  Zylion gasps with laughter. “I do not think he is aware of that.”

  “Of course not. Ellze thinks everyone in the world wants to rub hills with him.” I sigh. “But I am not being fair. We have known each other our whole lives. It would not be fair to call Ellze malicious—he simply lets his desires rule
him.”

  Zylion is about to speak when the Commander’s shout echoes across the riverbank. “Everyone!” He stands in all his naked glory on a rock above us, so I can ogle without reproach. “We have to move, now. Humans nearby.”

  We scramble out of the water, throw our clothes on, and call for the mounts. I give my sore feet a quick rub as Ellze rides up beside me, his lion sniffing the air. “Do you need a ride? You have been walking a long time.”

  “I am still strong,” I say. I do not want to give Ellze any ideas.

  Ellze smiles. “You are indomitable, friend Sapphire.”

  “We continue all night,” Commander Valya says, climbing on his raptor. “We cannot risk being discovered before we know what awaits us.”

  Chapter 4

  Bayled

  The wedding is only four days away, and nothing has changed. So I stop Thelia in the hallway after our penmanship lesson, when the others have already left.

  “What is it?” she asks, leaning into me. Corene’s not even here—why put on a show?

  “We need to talk.” Not to mention that every time her hand touches mine, I feel like I need two baths to be able to look at myself in the mirror. “Corene hasn’t said anything about what we’re . . .”—I gesture at her—“trying to do here. It’s not working.”

  Thelia gives me a wolfish smile. “Are you sure?”

  I suppose I’m not. I rarely see the Princess anymore. “She hasn’t mentioned it. Certainly not a hint that she’ll go to her father and ask to marry me instead.”

  “Is that how you imagine things happen in this kingdom?” She snorts. “Oh, you poor Northerner.”

  Every conversation with Thelia I’ve ever had since I came here as a little boy has been like this one—with her reflexively condescending to me. I’m wrong, I’m ignorant, I’m a foreigner. I tried over and over to befriend her because she was so close to Corene, but it wasn’t many cycles before I gave up. Thelia Finegarden is as strong and dangerous as she is unkind.