“As you can imagine, these changes were highly unpopular with some people,” Reese said.
“There aren’t any kings in the Outer Lands, are there?” Dale asked. “Does that mean there aren’t any laws? How can anything work right?”
Innish smiled suddenly, mysteriously. Emeline was struck by how different it made him look. He’s a man with more than one face, she thought, thinking of him under the fireworks. “I couldn’t tell you for sure, of course. But I’ve heard it said that things work better there than they do here.”
Now it was Reese’s turn to give him a surprised look. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile. What’s in that drink?”
Innish frowned at him. “Water.”
“I’d really like to see the Outer Lands,” Emeline said.
Everyone stared at her. It did sound more like something Aladane would say. But she realized she had been thinking that way for a while. “I mean, as long as I knew I could come back home.”
“See, that’s the thing, heart. You don’t know anything for sure over there,” Fish told her gently.
“Have you been?” Innish asked, raising his eyebrows.
“You couldn’t pay me in gold to go there.” Fish nodded for emphasis and went on eating. Innish looked amused.
“Are you going to see the council with us?” Emeline asked him.
He nodded. “I have to corroborate Sir Reese’s account, especially since I saw Loddril’s body as well.”
A silence fell briefly over the table.
“And then we’ll hear all about the fierce wild animals that roam that part of the Cinderin Valley,” Reese finally said, rolling his eyes. “And how they could easily kill a man.”
“Yes, the Sapients will have much to say about it,” Innish replied mildly.
“Well, this is a cozy group!”
Emeline looked up to see a handsome knight standing on the other side of the table. He wore his breastplate without the rest of his armor, boasting its engraving of a pair of crossed blades. He had very dark skin and was almost as tall as Reese, but lankier, and several years older. His black hair was slicked back very carefully; it was clear that he was proud of his looks.
“Sir Gundan,” Innish said in a respectful tone; Reese said nothing. Emeline remembered the name from the spectators’ conversation at the practice field.
“This must be the family from Aliddser, Reese?” the knight drawled.
“No, we’re from Equane,” Dale said, before anyone could answer.
Sir Gundan broke into a wide grin. “My mistake!” he said mockingly. “Reese, have I gotten your noble lineage wrong all this time?”
“It wouldn’t be the first thing you couldn’t wrap your head around.” The sudden, cold anger in Reese’s tone was painful to hear. “This is not my family. They’re here to see the king.”
“Is that so?” Sir Gundan exclaimed, amused. “Well, if they must dine in the royal hall, I suppose it’s best they keep company with someone on their level.”
Emeline’s temper flared, even though she knew the insult was meant for Reese. Dada and Fish were taken aback, and they looked uncertainly at each other. Dale and Aladane just looked confused.
“Excuse me, sir,” Emeline snapped, “but I believe King Altin would disagree. Or don’t you know your history?”
Innish choked on his water and stifled a chuckle. Sir Gundan stared at Emeline, as if he hadn’t fully noticed her before.
“Who is this little miss with the unruly hair?” he asked. “Why, Reese, have you found a lady at last that’s not above you?” He laughed; Emeline cringed and glanced at Reese. His face was hard as stone. “She’s so quick at your defense. Good thing, too, as your defense is not your best.” He gave Reese a wink and turned to go.
“Yours is better, but only because we’re all so fond of attacking you,” Reese told his back. Gundan stiffened, but continued on.
Their end of the table was quiet for a moment afterward. Then Fish spat, “What in the kingdom is killing his crops?”
“Crossed knives is a stupid design,” Dale declared.
“He looks ridiculous walking around with just his breastplate on,” Dada added.
Innish smiled again, a warmer smile than the one that had impressed Reese. “If you’ve read about the city of Endan in the north,” he told Dale, “then you know it was established by two very wealthy households—”
“And you just met the pride and joy of one of them,” Reese finished bitterly. He shoved himself back from the table and got to his feet. “It’s time for me to turn you over to Quaith for the evening. You can practice your testimony for the king tomorrow.”
With that, he marched away, drawing some glances from the other diners as he went. Emeline noticed, with her heart aching, that a few knights were smirking after him.
Innish watched him go. “He’ll send Quaith over. Just wait here.” He stood up, nodded to them, and took his own leave.
“Capital folk,” Fish said with a shake of his head.
Emeline caught sight of the slender, proper Quaith bobbing his head at Reese and looking their way in utter astonishment. Clearly, he’d never imagined they would end up dining in the King’s Hall.
Then she suddenly spotted Erd, of all people, Rellum’s carriage driver. He was carrying a tray of glasses somewhere, perhaps to Rellum’s rooms.
His eyes met hers and he winked at her, leering, just in time for Reese to catch it. The knight scowled and stalked off.
following morning, Quaith arrived with the news that the king would indeed see them that day. Emeline had little appetite at the Mother’s Milk. The boys chattered excitedly, but Dada was tense, and Fish kept blinking and yawning as if he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. They had drilled the boys for hours to remember one essential rule: Do not speak of Emeline’s magic.
It felt like no time at all before they were following Quaith back to the silver gates. He called to the guard in a much lighter voice than Reese, saying clearly, “Master Quaith returning with guests!”
The doors opened as slowly as before. Fish muttered what they were all thinking: “Here we go again.”
They had to reenter the king’s grove, this time without Reese to reassure them. Emeline’s skin crawled with dread. Dada stepped toward her and put his arm through hers, his other one linked with Dale; Fish put a hand on first his spring-gun, then his bullet-gun, and steered Aladane forward with the other hand. They followed the knot in Quaith’s hair as it bobbed ahead of them.
When they came to an arched doorway, they rushed in as a group, nearly pushing a startled Quaith aside.
“Is this the same hallway as yesterday?” Fish exclaimed, eyeing the blue floor tiles and crumbling tapestries on the walls.
“No…I think it just looks the same,” Dada said, unlinking arms with his children.
“Yes, yes, all the outer corridors have a similar look,” Quaith told them, quickly walking ahead. “This way, please.”
Emeline glanced up nervously at the woven images as she followed. One battered tapestry was a map of the kingdom, very much like the one in the meeting hall back in Equane. She was not surprised to see that no blue star marked her village in this version.
“We are now approaching the council room,” Quaith announced, looking back at them. “It is early, but once His Majesty arrives, you must be silent at all times unless signaled to speak by His Majesty or a member of the Sapients or Theurgists.” This sounded like a rehearsed speech and Quaith nodded to himself after completing it.
Emeline felt like things were moving too fast for her now. There was no time to linger in the hallway and prepare herself. She wiped her sweating palms on her dress, swallowing.
The passage ended at a pair of double doors made of heavy stone. Blue-armored guards stood silently on either side, with an air of having been there since the be
ginning of time.
One of them nodded at Quaith and then they both moved to open the doors. The stone scraped slowly over the tile as the doors opened wide.
Emeline’s first impression was of light: It was a beautiful, sparkling room, the walls covered in mirrors. They reflected the sunshine coming in through clear glass panels in the high ceiling. Silver decorations dangled here and there, chiming softly when the air stirred.
In the center of the far wall, there were two enormous, elaborately carved wooden chairs—the thrones for the king and queen. They seemed built for giants instead of ordinary people. On either side of them were boxed-in sections of small, ornate silver chairs.
Facing all of this were rows of much simpler wooden benches, but even these were trimmed with silver. The floor was covered with a soft blue carpet on which their footsteps made no sound.
“Look at this place!” Aladane hissed, his eyes enormous.
Dale nodded solemnly. Fish had removed his hat and was now just staring around him, overwhelmed. Dada couldn’t help smiling, admiring everything.
All the seats were empty, benches and chairs and thrones alike. Servants were wiping down the boxed-in seats carefully, and an oversized cushion was being placed onto one of the thrones.
Then Emeline saw with relief that Reese and Innish stood waiting just to the side of the double doors. Her chest grew hot.
“Good morning, Sir Reese! Innish,” Quaith said importantly. Reese was in full armor but carrying his helmet. Innish wore the same embroidered vest he’d worn at dinner, but he had trimmed his beard. They nodded to Quaith.
Emeline studied Reese’s face for any sign of his anger from the night before, but his expression was blank, reserved. He didn’t meet her eyes.
She bit her lip. If he was upset with them—or embarrassed—there was nothing to be done about it. They might be sent home to Equane in as little as an hour.
The thought hollowed out her stomach.
“This is where you will sit once we begin,” Quaith told Emeline and the others. He indicated the first row of benches, and Fish promptly sat down, relieved to know what to do. Emeline, Dada, and the boys followed, and Quaith went to direct the people who were preparing the seats.
Emeline looked at Reese again over her shoulder, but he was talking quietly to Innish. She wished he would speak to her—she wanted him to reassure her, to tell her that her secret was safe, that her family was safe, that protection would come to Equane—that he wanted to see her again—but he didn’t meet her eyes.
A soft bell sounded from somewhere nearby. Reese went to stand at attention near the thrones, leaving Innish by the door. Dale gave Emeline an excited grin, despite everything.
This was it. They were finally going to see the king. Emeline clenched her fists in her lap, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings.
The double doors at the back of the room began to scrape across the floor again, and Emeline jerked around to look. Held open by the armored guards, the doors admitted the royal council, both Sapients and Theurgists: two lines of stately, elderly men and women, dressed in their stunning velvet robes.
Rellum and Helid were easy to spot—the Sapient wore a determined scowl, while the small Theurgist flashed his unsettling smile. They each strode forward with chin held high.
The two lines parted on cue just before they reached the benches, the Sapients swinging to the left and the Theurgists to the right.
Many of them cast critical glances at Emeline and her family, but Rellum, disconcertingly, chose not to look at them at all. Emeline felt very small under their severe gazes, sitting there exposed in the middle of that glittering room.
A moment later, a man dressed like Quaith entered, carrying an odd little machine. He sat down on the bench behind her and settled the machine in his lap: She looked over her shoulder and saw that it had little switches in rows, each one marked with a letter.
The bell rang out again, this time louder, prompting the council members and the man with the machine to rise. Emeline and her family followed suit, turning to look back at the double doors. The guards had not opened them, however, and when she looked to the front again, confused, it was to see one of the wall mirrors swing open behind the giant thrones. From it emerged two men in simple blue cloaks supporting a third man between them. He was bent over and very pale, with thinning gray hair that fell to his shoulders.
Here at last was King Olvinde. He was dressed in a black suit embroidered heavily with silver, and for a crown, he wore a delicate ring of silver that rested on the top of his head. Emeline imagined that his weak frame could not have held anything heavier. There were several gem-encrusted rings on his fingers, but they were loose. His skin hung on his narrow face and his lips were colorless.
She felt a slight and, she knew, unkind sense of disappointment at the sight of him. Despite all that she’d heard of his illness, she had still expected him to have a more intimidating presence.
The king coughed and took a shuddery breath as they helped him up the two steps at the base of the cushioned throne. The giant chair swallowed him up as he sank into it. He nodded his head at Reese, who stood closest to him, and the knight bowed in return. Then the king turned his watery gray eyes toward the Equanians who sat in his council room. He frowned and coughed into a handkerchief.
“Please be seated,” he wheezed. Everyone sat down at his words, and Emeline flinched when the man with the machine suddenly gave it a loud crank. Reese grinned at her unexpectedly, and her spirits shot upward.
“I cannot even recall when last this council room held village farmers,” King Olvinde said, his low voice stronger now. He surveyed Emeline and her family from his massive chair with interest.
One of his attendants in blue robes spoke up, quietly. “Your Majesty, they are witnesses—”
“Yes, yes, I have been fully informed of our business today.” The king shifted uncomfortably on his cushion.
The machine was clicking steadily now, and Emeline and the boys looked back to see the man striking the lettered switches, recording the king’s words.
“But first, I believe Rellum Sapient wishes to make official the inflammatory accusations he’s been spreading through the hall,” the king said in a dispirited tone.
The Sapient rose at once, obviously eager to tell his story. “Your Majesty, my fellow members of the royal council, I regret to have to inform you of an incident of the most serious nature,” he announced. “An attempt was made upon my life several days ago, while I was traveling to visit a relative. In fact, the only reason I can stand here today is because of Sir Reese and his guard, who saved me from a hired assassin in the dead of night at an inn in Blyne.”
It was early evening, Emeline thought, surprised, and she looked at Reese. His green eyes rolled up slowly toward the ceiling.
“I do recall you taking leave for a family matter. Since I’ve not been informed of a new prisoner, can I assume you failed to capture this assassin, Sir Reese?” the king asked, turning to the knight.
“On the contrary, Your Majesty,” Reese replied politely. “My guard and I were able to secure him for the journey home, but he did not survive it. His death is part of my testimony regarding the Dark Creature sightings.”
“Is that so?” King Olvinde asked, staring at him. He broke into a short fit of coughing, continuing raspily, “Well, may I ask how you and Rellum Sapient know that he was a hired assassin?”
“The man’s reputation preceded him as one, Your Majesty. His name was Loddril.”
“Ah. I have heard of him myself. Well, at least it appears his career is now at an end,” the king said, and then turned his gaze back to Rellum. “But as I understand it, Rellum Sapient, you have strong suspicions regarding who hired him.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I believe that, given the current violent nature of our divided council, the strongest suspicions mu
st rest upon the Theurgists,” Rellum said darkly. The people he spoke of glared at him in silence. “After all, I have no enemies elsewhere.” There were a few titters from the Theurgists and he cast them a furious glance, snapping, “In fact, I have every reason to believe that one Helid Theurgist is the likely culprit. It’s no secret that he holds me in contempt.”
At this, Helid sighed loudly and shook his head, as if he felt nothing but pity.
The king observed all this with a severe frown. For a few moments, he said nothing, but then he spoke wearily. “I am well aware that there is some dissatisfaction among the council regarding my tentative naming of an heir. However, a council session is not the place for speculation. Tell me, Knight, did you find anything on this assassin to suggest who hired him? Evidence?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Reese said in an even tone.
“Very well.” The king coughed painfully again and stirred in his throne. Emeline felt a sudden sympathy for him. It was clear that he longed to be in bed, relieved of this responsibility, done with this tedious feud.
“This is boring,” she heard Aladane whisper to Dale. It was followed by a sharp elbow from Dada.
“I understand that someone must have hired this rogue to take your life, Rellum Sapient, and for that, I am truly concerned,” the king said. “But I’m afraid that without this assassin’s testimony, there is no evidence that points to Helid Theurgist or, indeed, to anyone present.”
A tense silence rested upon the council, Rellum clutching the sleeves of his robe in frustration. King Olvinde held up his right hand and studied it for a second. It shook violently and he squeezed it into a fist.
“Rest assured that I will begin an investigation into the matter,” the king said finally. “Each council member, from both factions, will submit to questioning over the course of the next few days….As my health permits.”
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