by CS Hale
Finish it off, Astrid.
I moved the knife to my left hand, grabbed the anapali’s head with my right, ignored the hooves that pummeled me, attempting to throw me off and right itself, and sliced at its throat with the knife. Blood spurted from the severed artery, hitting me in the face, temporarily blinding me. I shook my head and blinked, trying to clear my vision.
The anapali gasped, its tongue hanging out, and I watched its eyes go glassy as life left it. I wiped my face with the hook of my arm, pushed myself off the carcass, and crawled back over the rails. I dropped the knife at Valemar’s feet and walked back to the castle. He may have spoken to me, but I never heard him. All I could hear were the ringing, echoing screams of the anapali.
I must have been a sight — covered in dirt and blood — but no one stopped me, and I didn’t look close enough to see their faces. Once I was through my bedroom, my knees gave out. Huge shuddering gasps tore at my lungs. I heard the door fly open and Daria run in. She dropped down and took my arms, her face a mask of horror.
“Get it off me!” I screamed at her and grabbed the edge of my tunic. “Get it off me!”
“Okay, okay.” Her voice was soothing, like a mother’s. Gently, she lifted the tunic over my head as I collapsed into a weeping puddle. Daria carefully pulled off my hose and then covered me with a towel. The sound of water began to echo in the room.
She must have made several trips, filling the bath, but I lost track of time, rocking back and forth on the floor, clutching the towel to me.
“Let’s get you into the water.”
Her hands raised me until I could crawl into the tub. I sat down, curled my body around my knees, and continued to rock back and forth.
“I’m just going to wash your hair.”
The pitcher dipped into the water. Warm rivulets ran down my head and back and splashed red, coloring the water where I gazed. Again, the pitcher dipped. Again, the water ran red.
A cloth splashed, unfurling in the water, and Daria took my face. I closed my eyes as she scrubbed, not wanting to see her expression or the blood growing darker on the cloth. She rinsed it out, washed my face again, and then tenderly bathed the rest of me. I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t want the image of me sitting in a pool of blood added to the others burned into my brain.
“Up you go.”
I stood and let her wrap a towel around me. Daria helped me from the tub and sat me down. She poured a large glass of wine and handed it to me. “Drink that while I get you a nightgown.”
I gulped it down, draining the glass, hardly stopping to breathe. Daria took the empty glass from me then pulled a nightgown over my head. A blue one, not white. We looked at each other, both knowing the color would better hide any blood that the bath had missed, but didn’t say anything.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
Daria drew back the covers and I crawled in. “Make my excuses,” I croaked at her. “And if it’s anapali —” My voice strangled in my throat, but I pushed it out. “— I’ll skip dinner!”
Daria pulled the covers up and stroked my hair. “I’ll bring you some bread and cheese later. You’ve nowhere to be.” Her hand rested on my shoulder for a moment. Then she picked up the clothes and slipped from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
The shadows were long in the room when I awoke. “My queen,” Daria called softly. “I’ve brought your dinner.”
Every part of me ached. Every muscle. Every inch of skin. Even my soul.
True to her word, Daria had brought bread, cheese, some fruit, and a glass of white wine. I took that first and drained half of it before I nestled against the pillows Daria placed behind my back. She set the tray on my lap, but I could only stare at it. I held the wine glass close, fingers curled, the glass clutched to my chest. My eyes pricked as an old image settled itself over the new one — eight-year-old Astrid sitting in bed after Mum had told me Grandma Sarah was dead, holding Emerson, my stuffed bear, in just the same way. As if filling my heart with him could make her death not true.
I looked down at the wine and set it aside. It would numb me, take away the aching edge of pain, but I had killed and nothing could erase the truth.
I handed Daria the tray. “Not now. Maybe later.” She set it on the table near the window. With a soft breath, she opened then closed her mouth.
“Do you want me to stay?” she finally asked.
“No.” I tried to lift a smile. “I’m just going to rest.”
The shadows gradually darkened until night filled the room. I heard a click as the handle turned, and the door swung open. I could tell, just from the change in energy, that it was Valemar. I kept my back to him.
The mattress shifted as he sat down beside me. He began to gently stroke my hair. “You did what needed to be done,” he said. My eyes began to burn, heavy with hot tears I refused to let fall. “You did what needed to be done.”
Valemar lay down next to me. He matched the curl of my back, fitted his legs behind my knees. His arm came around me and drew me closer.
It should have been comforting, as Valemar intended it, but, instead, it filled me with anger. He would have had no need to coddle me if he hadn’t pushed me to kill. And I fell asleep, hating him for it.
When I awoke, the sun was shining, and the bed behind me was cold. I heard Valemar’s voice, low at the door, and then the door softly closed. I didn’t stir, but somehow he knew I was awake.
“Breakfast,” he said, and placed the tray on the table. I didn’t move. His footsteps crossed back over and he came around the bed to face me. I closed my eyes as he reached out and lightly stroked my face. “Astrid.” I turned my face into the pillow. There was the whisper of fabric against fabric as Valemar’s hand snapped back.
“Very well. Your breakfast is waiting. You need to eat something.” My stomach grumbled at his words. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
My eyes snapped open though all I could see was the dark depths of the pillow. I lifted my head as Valemar marched to the door, opened, and then closed it. The little hairs on my arms rose.
“I think you’re right,” I said to them. “I think we’re in trouble.”
True to his word, Valemar was back in fifteen minutes. Bearing my cleaned training leathers. I jumped up from my breakfast and moved behind the chair, holding it between me and my approaching husband.
“Put them on,” Valemar said.
“No.” I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet and bent my knees.
“I will chase you down and dress you,” Valemar said. “Or, barring that, throw you over my shoulder, carry you out in your nightgown, and put you in the pen.” His eyebrows rose. “Actually, that’s an idea. You’re more likely to come under attack dressed like that.”
I gripped the top of the chair and calculated a way out the door.
One side of Valemar’s mouth curled up. “Go ahead and try.”
I swallowed, flicked my eyes to the door, then darted in the other direction. My feint fooled Valemar for only the briefest moment. His hand came around my wrist. I dropped and became dead weight, nearly pulling him down on me.
Valemar managed to catch his balance. His feet straddled my prostrate form, hand still wrapped around my wrist. “This is why you need to do it again. You can’t hesitate from shock if you need to —” He stopped before he said the word. “If you need to save yourself from more than one.”
And with that, I knew he’d fight me until I did what he wanted. I glared at Valemar. He released my hand and stepped back. I yanked the nightgown over my head, grabbed the hose and jammed my legs into them.
“You’re not going to have Daria dress you?”
I snapped the tunic, grabbed the end, and jammed my head through the hole. “No. I’ve dressed myself for twenty-nine years just fine, thank you.” There was enough venom in my voice to kill a snake.
“Twenty-nine years?”
It hit me then that Valemar had never asked me how old I was. There were a lot
of questions he’d never asked. A lot of assumptions he’d made. I’d been grateful, for it allowed me to hide behind who he thought I was.
I shoved on my shoes, stood, and then marched out the door.
I didn’t stop until I reached the pen. The anapali pacing back and forth was nearly white. Kind of Valemar to give me a dark one the first time, I thought sarcastically. This one would surely show the blood.
I looked at Valemar’s feet and held out my hand. “Knife.”
I hate you.
My eyes met his when I took it from him. For a brief moment, I considered stabbing him. His eyes clouded as he read my thoughts, and I looked away.
The anapali panicked as I turned toward the pen, darting back and forth, bleating. I clenched my jaw and climbed over the rails.
This time, I wanted it over quickly, no chasing around the pen. I held my arms out, lowered my weight, and shifted from side to side. The anapali stamped the ground as I blocked it. It backed up, its eyes wide, searching for a way around me while keeping me in sight. I slowly kept at it, shifting my weight, watching its eyes, reading its moves. Back it went. Back some more.
Until it hit the corner of the pen. The anapali gave a startled and panicked leap that I read correctly. I launched myself at it, hands grasping for its neck, my hip angled forward with all the power I could muster behind it. We both went down.
I managed to get one leg over its chest and planted my foot onto the ground. Sunlight flashed on the knife as I bent the anapali’s head back and cut its throat, angling my body away from the gush of blood. One gurgling breath. Two. Air rasped from the gash. I pushed myself off before it took its last breath, wiped the knife on the soft wool, and climbed back over the rails.
I dropped to the ground. Instead of handing over the knife, I gripped it tighter and stared at Valemar’s feet. “Don’t you dare come to my room tonight,” I said, my voice as sharp at the weapon in my hand.
He didn’t.
We left for Gladama the next morning. I’d lost track of the days with all the training, so I was unsure if we were on schedule or if Valemar wanted to put distance between me and yet another city I found unpleasant.
I hung Loenir back as we traveled, maintaining at least two lengths between me and Valemar. Daria rode at my side. She alternated between telling me interesting facts about the places on our route and silence, letting our journey be filled with the sound of the animals’ hooves, bird song, and the hum of insects. The Mödatal rode along the rear. I hadn’t seen her since we’d arrived in Torfin.
We stopped at an inn for the night. I was thankful I wouldn’t have a host or hostess for whom I’d have to put on an act. I followed the innkeeper to my room, the largest and finest the inn had to offer. The small town of Riorgin lay on the pilgrimage route to Gladama and attracted many wealthy visitors with its fine inns.
I stripped off my riding gloves and sat on the bed. The large, double bed. Valemar opened the door moments later. I jumped to my feet. “No.”
“Astrid —”
“No. I am not sharing a room with you.”
I backed up as Valemar took two steps toward me. “Astrid.” My feet continued their journey. My head moved from side to side, echoing my words.
“No.”
But Valemar continued his slow advance, keeping his body between me and the door.
“No.” My throat began to constrict.
“Astrid.” Valemar’s hand reached for me. I knocked it away and clenched my fists. My foot reached back again. With a jarring thump, I hit the wall. “Astrid.”
“No.”
Valemar reached again. There were now only inches between us, and I was left with nowhere to go.
“No.” I struck out with my fists, pummeling his chest with blow after blow. Valemar’s hands gently closed around my arms. My anger ebbed away in his sure and stead grip.
“No.” The word was little but air.
Valemar pulled me to him. “No what?” he softly asked into my hair.
My legs gave way. Valemar slowly eased us to the ground. I sucked back the sobs gathering in my chest. “No what, Astrid?”
I wanted to hate him at that moment, hate him for asking me, for making me unpack the box I’d been shoving things into ever since Bari had told us to stay put. Ever since the explosion that had —
I flinched and skittered away from the memories. Only to have a new one rise up to take their place — the hanging tongue of the dead anapali.
My head moved back and forth. No more glassy eyes staring at me. No more living things with the life sucked out of them. “Death,” I whispered. “No more death.”
Valemar stroked my hair. “Who died?”
I heard a whine and realized it was me. “The accident?” Valemar asked.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t make it real.
I began to shake. “Okay,” Valemar whispered. “It’s okay. You’re here now. No more death.”
Valemar held me all night as I struggled to put the horror back in the box I’d constructed for it, both of us silent. The soft, rhythmic sweeping of his hand along my back, even after we’d traded the floor for the bed, eventually lulled me to sleep. He was still at it when I awoke the next morning.
I mentally shoved the box away, unfinished. I had a job to do. I was Astrid Carbrev, Queen of Bánalfar, and this man’s wife. There was no time for me to wade in woe or pull him down with me.
The corners of my mouth curled up. We had places to go. People to see.
“Better?” Valemar asked. I nodded. He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. Under his scrutiny, tears gathered in my eyes but I blinked them away.
“Ready.”
Valemar gently frowned, then leaned forward and kissed me.
I had a new life. The past didn’t matter.
THE TREES OF Gladama took my breath away when I first spied them. They rose like the highest skyscrapers, visible even two days from Glábac. The giant sequoia that grow in the forests of central California on Earth were mere twigs by comparison.
“Yggdrasil,” I said under my breath, for they looked like the immense Tree of Life from Norse mythology. Trees whose roots stretch into other worlds while the branches hold up the heavens.
The impression only strengthened the closer we got. I could well imagine the three Norns living there, the goddesses of fate — Urd, the past, Verdani, the present, and Skuld, the future. Here they would spin the threads of life, every twist and turn of the journey decided.
The trees were so large, dwellings could have been constructed among the branches. Instead, the Alfari had erected the city of Glábac — Barrier to the Glade — just before them.
“The Cordair cut down these trees?” I asked Daria as we rode up to the gates of Glábac. The air was filled with the sound of the barat leaves rustling in the late summer breeze.
“And would do so again if given the chance.” Valemar’s angry voice sounded from behind us.
I watched the sunlight catch and twist on the leaves. Something, almost like electricity, pressed against my skin. What sort of people would cut these down? I knew, but it still amazed me, and it made me glad that Valemar’s ancestors had come down from the north and driven them out.
And yet, the Cordair still lurked along the Fairfada. Aided now by the Hormani. I could see why Valemar and the rest of the Alfari put so much stock in the prophecy. Their world teetered on the brink of war. The Hormani traders could undo two thousand years of relative peace. The Moon Princess was all that stood between the Cordair and destruction of Bánalfar.
And they thought that person was me.
Shale rode by me, dressed in green. She was still the Mödatal, but the green robes and green ribbon braided into her hair removed the mystery that surrounded her with the red, made it easier for me to think of her by her name and not her title.
There was no Cair in Glábac. The trees, the glade itself, were the church. No Mother Moon. No Father Sea. Just the barat trees w
ith their life and their sheltering protection.
The town of Glábac was an overflowing mix of pilgrims, inns, and armed soldiers. Half the buildings seemed to be inns, all bustling with people coming and going. Every block had four or five soldiers standing at attention, scanning the crowds. They were unlike any others I’d seen in Bánalfar. Small barat leaves, like green tear drops, had been tattooed below each eye.
“They are the Baraáda,” Valemar said when he saw me staring. “More deadly than Heymond.” He met my eye. “More deadly than me. They have pledged to give their lives for the trees. They have not been needed in nearly two millennia, but still they stand. Still they train. Still they watch.”
Valemar turned in the saddle and looked back the way we’d come, to the east. It was nearly a fourteen-day ride to Rock Dorach, but even I knew that was nothing to a determined army.
Valemar shifted his gaze back to the trees. Awe filled his eyes as he scanned the wide branches gently swaying with the wind. Awe and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Hope? Longing? Neither word was right, but they were still there, one element in something that was entirely different.
I felt it, too. A charge that rippled under my skin. Life and change and eternity. Possibility and endlessness. They were all here, in those trees. Urd, Verdani, and Skuld twisting the past, the present, and the future into a rope that colored our lives, brought us together, tore us apart. Determined who we were.
I had not come on pilgrimage, but I was becoming a pilgrim.
We stayed in the castle first built by Antilli Carbrev, Valemar’s ancestor who had driven out the Cordair. The castle backed onto the grove itself, standing as a sentry while the town of Glábac spread out in front of it like pawns on a chessboard, ready to protect the protectors.