“Jarvik is smart enough to recognize that his ascendance will never be seen as legitimate unless the sitting king expressly names him as his successor. It was why he spent so much time exerting his control over Elrek,” Janara said, rubbing her face. “We didn’t see it at the time. I think we all blamed Elrek’s moodiness on the tired mind of an aging king. Jarvik didn’t expect Elrek to insist on Daarik’s marriage when he did, and none of us could have predicted you. So now he needs Daarik, at least until Daarik officially tells our people that he’s setting aside the crown and naming Jarvik king. No one will follow him, otherwise.”
Shannen nodded. It was small comfort, but she would take it. As long as Daarik refused to name Jarvik king, he would live.
“He will likely use the same methods he used with Elrek, attempting to worm his way into Daarik’s mind and make him do his bidding. Daarik is strong, but we already know he’s hurt and undoubtedly Jarvik will do all he can to weaken him further.”
“We need to get to him quickly,” Shannen said.
“I can help with that,” a strong, husky voice said from behind them. Janara and Shannen turned to see Daarik’s grandmother, Faerlah, standing there, wiping bloody hands on a rag. She had been healing the injured, and Shannen had not even noticed her approach.
“Grandmother?” Janara asked.
“It was a good long time ago now, but in my youth, I was a decent pilot,” Faerlah said. As one, Shannen and Janara looked from the elderly Maarlai to the Sarlene ships, sitting vacant outside of Ashwall. “It may take a little while, but with a bit of practice, I can likely work the rustiness off.”
“You truly think you can fly one of these?” Shannen asked.
Faerlah shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out. Another advantage, as you saw with your capital, is that these ships are made for destruction. I don’t think any of us doubt that the Sarlene will continue to be a problem. If we happen across some of them…”
“We can try to shoot them down,” Shannen murmured.
“We’d have to hope they don’t have a remote self-destruct on these ships, or we’d be walking into a death trap,” Janara warned.
“I wouldn’t bet on that. The Sarlene aren’t known for being trusting. They wouldn’t allow even their own brothers to have the power to destroy them. But when I’m learning the controls, I can certainly check for one,” Faerlah said.
As Shannen looked at Faerlah, she remembered Daarik’s words to her that his grandmother had warned him about her ambition. “Interesting how ambition turns out not to be such a horrible thing when the life of someone you love is at stake,” she murmured. Janara looked between the two of them, and Faerlah met Shannen’s eyes.
“There is nothing wrong with ambition per se. I did not trust you, even though I liked you. Daarik trusted you, and I did not want to see him hurt.”
“You think me selfish,” Shannen said.
“Because you are. You will try to do the right thing, but you’re a selfish, spoiled princess. In this case, what you want is what I want: to save Daarik and destroy Jarvik once and for all. I’m putting my faith in your stubborn hands.”
Shannen gave a terse nod. “Let us know when you’re ready to move.”
She turned, and Janara joined her. “You should rest.”
“I need to do some target practice. If I get the chance to take Jarvik’s head off, I am going to take it,” Shannen muttered.
“I knew there had to be a reason you and I get along so well,” Janara said, and they moved off together to the target practice area. The cold, stinking rain continued to fall, and Shannen was soaked through, shaken, and sure she was about to lose her mind. But as one of Renn’s servants handed her her bow, which he’d run to collect from her room, she only had one thing on her mind: Daarik.
Chapter Thirteen
It was just before dawn when the Sarlene ship Faerlah had disappeared into rose into the sky. All activity halted as those both in the castle and those outside of it stopped and looked up at the sky.
It was not moving as smoothly as Shannen was accustomed to seeing, but it was up, and she and Janara watched as Faerlah took the ship in a slow circle around the fort, turning right, left, going higher, and then lower. Janara let out a wild “whoop” of excitement, and Shannen gave her a quick smile.
Jarvik and his people had had Daarik for an entire night. All she could think about was how much pain he might be in. She had kept her mating mark exposed as she’d practiced with Janara, hoping for even a whisper from him. She knew it was unlikely with the clouds and rain, but it was all she had. The connection to him remained cold and silent, and it wore on Shannen’s already fraying nerves.
She went and retrieved her arrows. She still had horrible aim, but it was getting better. There was maybe a fifty percent chance that she would hit what she aimed at now.
“You’re getting much better, but I hope you won’t take any offense when we keep the Sarlene weapons for those of us who can shoot straight, your Highness,” Janara said.
“No offense taken,” Shannen answered. She retrieved her arrows and looked back up at the sky. Faerlah was bringing the ship around and lower. She watched as the ship came in for a landing. It bumped, bounced, and careened a bit, but it was on the ground and it had held together. It was much more than Shannen ever could have hoped for.
The hatch opened and Faerlah popped her head out, waving Shannen and Janara over. The other Maidens were nearby, as always, and Shannen motioned for them to follow.
“I can do this,” Faerlah said without preamble when Shannen stepped onto the ship. “I didn’t find any indication of a remote self-destruct, but a lot of this is beyond my understanding. Call it a hunch. I do not think they will be able to disable this ship in any way,” she added, and Shannen nodded.
“That was amazing, grandmother,” Janara said with a smile, and Faerlah nodded.
“I need you all to practice with the gunning stations. As I said, one of the advantages of using this ship is that we have access to these weapons. It’s fairly straightforward, and we’re not necessarily going to need accuracy,” she said, shooting a glance at Shannen. “So the queen can take up a gunning station as well.”
“Thanks,” Shannen answered sarcastically.
Faerlah brought all of them over to one of the five gunning stations arrayed around the compact ship. There was a seat, with a simple console in front of it, and a small window above that. On the windows there was a strange display, shaped like a “T.”
“That is your targeting system. You want whatever you’re aiming at to be as close to the intersection of those lines as possible,” Faerlah explained. “Use the stick to aim. Try it.”
Shannen sat and decided to aim at a boulder nearby. She moved the stick, and the “T” on her window moved with her. When she had the boulder she was targeting centered, the display lit up.
“When it does that, you pull the trigger on the stick to shot. Pretty simple,” Faerlah said, and Shannen nodded. “So I can fly it. Janara should be on the forward cannons, because I know she’s a good shot. The rest of you take a station and keep watch for anyone following or trying to shoot us.”
“We do not want to randomly shoot Sarlene ships out of the sky. For all we know, they could have caught up with Jarvik and still taken Daarik, since Renn said they seemed particularly focused on him,” Shannen said.
The rest of them nodded.
“So the cannons are for defense, primarily,” Janara said.
“And to utterly destroy the Sarlene after we have Daarik,” Shannen added. The Maidens and Faerlah all looked at her, and she smiled. “This is the biggest danger our world faces, and we have the means to fight back now. We should take it.” She paused, “It is possible that Renn can figure out how to fly one of these as well. I’ll leave instruction for him to practice if he wants to. We may need back up if we ever get the opportunity to fight the Sarlene fleet.”
The Maidens nodded.
“All rig
ht. Time to move. Gather anything you need, say goodbye to anyone you need to say goodbye to. If you are having any second thoughts, have them now and make a decision. Meet back here in ten minutes.”
Everyone set off in different directions. Shannen went to her suite to change out of her sopping wet gown and into the leather pants, wool tunic, and boots she had worn on her trek from Darathar to Tanris. She braided her hair and slipped her crown into a pouch she hung from her leather belt. On her finger, her wedding band glinted, and she pressed her lips to the smooth metal. “I will have you back,” she murmured.
Shannen slung her quiver and her bow over her shoulder, slid her dagger into the sheath on her thigh, and was nearly ready to leave the room when she spotted one of the leather ties Daarik used to bind his long hair. She picked it up and tied it around her wrist. With one last look at the room, which still smelled like her husband, she turned and closed the door, then headed down the long stone stairway to meet up with her Maidens and Faerlah. They would either succeed in saving her husband, or they would all die trying. There would be no half-measures this time. She had risked her life for her people, more than once. Now she was risking her life for the one thing she could not live without.
Chapter Fourteen
Daarik woke with a pounding head, an arm that was tightly but crudely bandaged with a blood-stained cloth, and his arms and legs shackled tightly. He was lying across the back of a large horse, and between the swaying of the horse, the stench of the air, and the pain lancing from his arm and his back, he felt an overwhelming need to vomit. He forced himself to breathe through it.
He knew Jarvik and his band had taken him. The last thing he’d seen before being struck, hard, in the head and blacking out had been Jarvik’s smug, smirking face. The attack by the Sarlene had given Jarvik and his people the chance they needed. Like any scavenger, Jarvik was a creature of opportunity, and he had taken it.
They had to have been watching Ashwall already, Daarik realized. With both Shannen and Daarik in residence, it had been a matter of waiting for one or both of them to stumble unawares into a trap. One unguarded moment. That was all it had taken. Daarik had been so relieved they had fought back the Sarlene that he had let his guard down.
And look where that had gotten him.
“Ah, look who’s awake,” Jarvik said in his high-pitched, snide voice. “Such bravery back there, boy. Such spirit.”
Daarik refused to speak.
“You see, child? I always win. You have bravery and brawn on our side, the privilege of your station and the coddling given to you by your father and grandmother. Me? I had to work to get where I am. Patience, vigilance. It always works out in the end. It is rarely about might, boy.”
I always win, Daarik thought. The cockiness that was attractive in his wife was merely disgusting in someone like Jarvik. There was none of her idealism in the old, vile Maarlai. Daarik nearly laughed. No one would think his wife an idealist, but he knew better. Her impassioned, angry response to the things he’d said about her people and their place in the world had proven that.
He sobered. He’d been an unworthy mate to her. His life should have been spent supporting her, cheering her on, being the partner she needed. Instead, he had remained childish, his father’s son. He’d likely wasted his final days with Shannen arguing a case that had been flawed from the moment she’d decided to reclaim her crown. Just like everyone else in her life, he had failed to truly believe in her.
“This is all very simple, boy,” Jarvik went on. “I want to rule. We both know that they’ll never accept me, enamored with your family as they are. And if I just kill you, Faerlah or Janara will claim the crown, and the fools will follow them.”
Daarik didn’t answer. He spat on the ground in disgust.
“Yes, charming. So it’s a straightforward thing. You will announce to our people, one way or another, that you and your family give up all claim to the crown, and you name me king in your place. You will be convincing, and respectful. You will hand your power over in a way that will make them all accept that this is fine, that it is what you want.”
“And what happens to me and my family then?” Daarik asked.
Jarvik didn’t answer, and it was all the answer Daarik needed. Even if Daarik publicly named Jarvik as successor, Jarvik would never risk having one of Elrek’s line alive to challenge his claim to the throne. Daarik, Janara, and Faerlah, the last remnants of Elrek’s line, would all end up dead, likely in ways that looked completely accidental. He did not doubt that he would try to have Shannen killed, as well. Unlikely as it had seemed even recently, if Shannen made a play for the crown, the Maarlai would definitely support her over Jarvik. And knowing Shannen, she would claim it out of pure spite.
Goddess, he loved her.
He knew that escaping was unlikely. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, but Jarvik was too careful to leave anything like that to chance. So his only hope, the only hope he had of saving his family and his wife from Jarvik’s plotting, was to hold out as long as he possibly could. He knew Jarvik was powerful. He would not even have to torture him physically. As he had with Elrek, Jarvik would work, bit by bit, at manipulating Daarik’s mind.
All he had to do was hold out. Maybe he would get lucky and the vile old pus bag would keel over before he made any headway. If that happened, Daarik knew he could goad Jarvik’s errand boys into killing him. A clean ending, free of Jarvik, and his cousin or grandmother, or his wife, could claim the throne free of Jarvik’s constant manipulations.
Hold out, refuse to give in. Refuse to let Jarvik turn his mind to mush, as he had with his father. Refuse to give in to the influence that he could already feel Jarvik trying to exercise.
He looked at his forearm, tied in front of him. HIs mating mark glinted dully in the darkness. He knew it would not work, not in this weather. If he could have the chance to tell Shannen, one last time, that he loved her, he’d be grateful.
“It disgusts me that you marked yourself for her,” Jarvik said, obviously following Daarik’s gaze. “A waste of good Maarlai elements. When you’re dead, I’ll be sure to have the boys reclaim it. There is precious little of it left.”
Daarik remained silent. He remembered the night they’d gotten the marks, the same night she’d left him to chase her crown. He had never felt as connected, as completely owned, heart and soul, by another person as he had been when he’d made love to Shannen after the trial of the marking was complete. He felt a strangeness in his mind, and he stopped thinking about Shannen. If Jarvik was trying to get in, trying to manipulate him, the last thing Daarik would give him were the treasured memories of the best moments of his life.
“The Sarlene showing up when they did was s stroke of good fortune. I was growing impatient, waiting for you to leave that blasted fort,” Jarvik said. Daarik rolled his eyes. The old snake had always liked to hear himself talk. “I don’t doubt that they were after the whore you married. You played right into their hands, charging out like that. It gave them an open shot at you, the one thing that could lure her from her little fortress. I have to admit that I was surprised that you and the assorted rabble were able to defeat them.”
Something nagged at Daarik. Fuzzy-headed and in pain as he was, he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly. He could barely focus, between the pain and the constant fear of letting his guard down and allowing Jarvik to mess with his mind.
They traveled for quite a while, and the sun rose in a dark gray sky. He lifted his head, and recognized the area.
“How’d we get here so fast?” Daarik asked, staring at the walls of Darathar.
“Your sweet little cousin isn’t the only one with the old magic running through her veins. How do you think I stayed ahead of you for so long, fool?”
As they clattered through the open, empty gates of Darathar, it hit Daarik: there was an outcome much worse than Jarvik gaining control of his mind. The Sarlene would track him here again. They would not give up. And knowing his wife, she was alread
y organizing rescue parties to go after him.
It was a trap, and the Maarlai were unwitting players in it. The Sarlene would have him anyway, and with him, they would take the last human queen, who they hated even more now for the defeats they’d suffered at her people’s hands. They would destroy her in every possible way before killing her, and they would make her people witness it all. And then, when they were utterly horrified, disheartened, and heartbroken, the Sarlene would destroy the last of them. Everything the Kinarian had told him about the Sarlene pointed to this, this viciousness, this vindictiveness.
He either needed to escape or be killed quickly. Because if this stretched out too long, his wife would pay the ultimate price.
As Shannen and her Maidens filed onto their commandeered Sarlene ship, the inhabitants of Ashwall — human, Maarlai, and Kinarian — watched in silence. When she reached the top of the stairway into the ship, Shannen turned and looked at them.
“Hail Queen Shannen,” Renn shouted, raising his fist into the air.
“Hail Queen Shannen,” the crowd repeated. And then again, louder, fists in the air. The chant erupted into cheers when Shannen raised her own fist into the air. Then she turned and stepped onto the ship, and the stairs and door retracted behind her. She took her spot at one of the left-side gunner stations, buckling herself into the large black seat after setting her bow and quiver on the floor beside her seat.
“Are you ready?” Camille asked from the station opposite hers.
“As ready as I will ever be,” Shannen murmured as she adjusted the targeting stick, making sure it worked. “You?”
Camille laughed. “When I was a little girl, I dreamed of a life of adventure. Hunting, maybe, or being a hero in one of the king’s wars. It didn’t matter that I was a girl. They were fantasies,” she added, and Shannen smiled. “This far surpasses anything I ever could have imagined.”
“And to think that all I ever dreamed of was a library stacked floor-to-ceiling with books,” Shannen said, and Camille laughed.
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