by Wendy Wang
“No one’s being slaughtered today, little Mouse,” Peter said, using the nickname he had given her when she was five. She tried to turn towards the sound of his voice, but the guardsman held fast to her arm. The tug of her ponytail sent a slight prickle across her scalp and Peter stepped up beside her. “Look at you. You have become a woman.”
Eryn lifted her face and his blue eyes locked onto hers. He ran the back of his hand across her cheek.
“Such a beauty. I never thought that awkward, shy little girl would turn into such a gorgeous woman.” Peter hooked his hand on her shoulder and his thumb rested just above her clavicle, tracing the bone. Eryn fought the urge to squirm away from him. Peter grinned, and his hand moved to her neck and his thumb gave a gentle squeeze. For a split second, she imagined him choking the life out of her as his guardsmen watched, doing nothing to stop him. Her heart beat so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. Maybe it would be a better way to die.
Peter threw his head back and laughed as if she’d just said something hilarious. “Oh, you.” He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head beneath his chin. His hand rubbed her back. “I’m not going to kill you, silly girl. You always did think the worst, didn’t you? Such a worrywart. We’ve got to help her think more positively, don’t we, Lieutenant?” He hugged her tight for a second, and then let her go.
“Yes, sir,” the blond guardsman said.
“Why did you bring me here, Peter? Like this? Like a hunted animal?”
“Aw, Mouse, don’t say such things. You’re my family. The only person left in Ethavia that really knows me,” Peter said, moving in front of her. “I wanted to give you a chance to join me.”
“Join you?” she said, hating herself for sounding like a squeaky, scared child. But she didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not all alone. “You’ve gone mad.”
“That’s what my mother said when I told her we could rise against the queen. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to remain loyal to an outdated institution.” He shrugged. “If you want remain loyal to the queen, go right ahead.”
Confusion flickered through Eryn. She tried to home in on Peter’s mind, but he evaded her, casting noisy, useless thoughts at her. Everything was buried too deep and would take serious concentration and rooting to get to them.
“Why don’t you just let me go, Peter? Please,” she begged.
Peter laughed again, but the sound of it made her skin break into gooseflesh. “I’m sorry, Mouse, but you know too much about me. I do love you, though, so I’m giving you a chance to make a choice. Join me or face the consequences.”
“Consequences? What consequences?” This was all happening too fast. And none of it made sense.
“Are you with me or are you against me, Mouse? It’s that simple.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “If you’re with me, then we will live here together in harmony. If you’re against me – well–”
“I—I don’t know, Peter. I just need to think for a minute. Can’t I please just think?”
The lines of Peter’s face deepened and became stony. He moved to the window, turning his back on her. “Take her away,” he ordered.
“No! Wait. Peter please. Just wait,” she cried. “No!” Eryn made her body limp and fell to her knees, her arms slipping through the guardsman’s hands. “Please, Peter. I’ll join you. Please. Don’t do this!” Tears blinded her.
“Get her out of here!” Peter turned on them, and his face had darkened. Two guardsmen lifted her by her arms and legs, dragging her from the room.
Once they were in the corridor, she stopped struggling against them. Her mind went numb and she stared at the blond guardsman’s chin. If she was going to die, she prayed it would be quick and painless. She closed her eyes and opened them again a few minutes later when it occurred to her that they were still inside the building. The guardsman holding her legs dropped them and wrestled with a large ring of keys before finding the one he needed. He shoved the long metal key into the lock, turned it and forced the door open. The blond guardsman hoisted her to her feet and pushed her inside a small, windowless room. She turned, her eyes locking for a moment with his. Why are you doing this? She sent the thought out to him, trying to penetrate the blue fog protecting his mind. When he didn’t answer, she opened her mouth to speak but before she could utter a word the door closed, engulfing her in darkness.
******
The doorknob jiggled with the sound of keys in the lock and Eryn’s eyes fluttered open. She had fallen asleep next to the door, afraid to move into the darkness of the room. The door pushed opened and she scrambled away from it, just in time to avoid being knocked on the head. Since there had been no exploration of the dark room; her hip struck something hard, causing pain to radiate down her leg. A wedge of light blinded her and she threw her hand up in front of her face. A guardsman stepped inside and waved his baton. An overhead chandelier lit up, blinding her for a moment. Her hand instinctively shielded her eyes. When it no longer hurt, she lowered her fingers and watched him place a tray on the table. The sharp corner of the fine Rosewood must’ve been the cause of her pain. She rubbed her hand against the soft flesh of her hip.
The guardsman was the same from yesterday. Was it yesterday? Time had ceased to mean anything in the darkness.
“Breakfast,” he said, pushing the tray towards her. His eyes flickered to her face and he observed her with caution.
“What’s going to happen to me?” She folded her arms across her chest. The smell of bacon and eggs swirled around her head, making her mouth water and her stomach growl.
His face softened and for a moment, she thought she saw pity in his pale blue eyes. “Just eat. There’s plenty of time for all that later.”
“He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” Tears swelled in her throat, threatening to choke her.
“You only have fifteen minutes,” the guardsman said. “I suggest you eat. You have a long day ahead of you.”
Her lip quivered and the first scalding drops of grief wet her cheek. The smell of food, which had been so enticing just a moment ago, made her nauseous. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand and took a few steps back.
The guardsman opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again, reminding her of a fish pulled from the safety of water. A dark cloud crossed his face.
“Take the food away, please,” she said through her hand. Her stomach gurgled and lurched. “It’s making me sick.”
“You need to eat something.” He frowned, clearly unhappy with her choice. He picked up the tray, looked down at the food, took the plate of toast and placed it on the table. “This will settle your stomach.” A single knock came from the door and the guardsman glanced away, the tray rattling in his hands, his feet shifting. “I have to go. Please try to eat something.”
“Wait,” she called. “What’s your name?”
He stopped his hand on the dingy brass knob. A thought of his almost escaped the cloud of mist surrounding his mind. It whispered to her but it was too faint to make out. His back heaved with a sigh and he touched his forehead to the door. “Trygg.”
“I’m Eryn. Eryn Hill,” she said. Maybe if he knew her name—maybe it would somehow make her more real to him.
His chest expanded with a few breaths. In and out. What was he waiting for? A few seconds later, he disappeared through the door and the key rattled. The lock clicked into place.
Eryn stepped forward and picked up a piece of toast. A thin layer of butter greased her fingers as she nibbled on one corner, wondering if she had reached him.
******
Just as Trygg had promised, after fifteen minutes or so a guardsman showed up. There was no quiet jiggling of the doorknob. He came in swiftly and grabbed her by the arm.
“Come. The commander wants to see you.” He didn’t smile and there was no sympathy for her when she whined about the tightness of his grip. A few minutes later, they walked through the heavy doors to Peter’s office.
&
nbsp; “Cousin!” Peter grinned, sounding as if he hadn’t seen her in years. He moved from around his desk and kissed her on the cheek. Peter flashed his eyes to the guardsman. He nodded and left them. Peter put his hands on the top of her shoulder and she could feel him trying to get a read on her. “You look awful, like you didn’t sleep at all.”
“I slept exactly as well as you would think, considering my treatment,” she said cautiously. Her senses tingled and she blocked his advances into her mind — an easy block. Peter never was a very strong Wood Kael. Like her father, Fire was his strongest affinity. “I want to go home.”
Peter nodded and his grin faded. “You will, little Mouse. You will. But first we have a few things to discuss.”
“What things?” She crossed her arms and tried to penetrate his thoughts. The pendant around his neck winked at her, reminding her Peter was protected by his bandahl. Getting inside his head would be extremely difficult and Peter always liked things dramatic and mysterious. It was one of the things that annoyed her most about him. Of course, extremely difficult was not the same as impossible.
“Come, I want to you to meet my daughter, Y’Ana.” He offered his arm to her. Eryn frowned and hesitated. What did his bastard daughter have to do with anything? “Come on, Mouse. I promise, she won’t bite you.”
She put her hand in the crook of his arm and followed him through a pair of glass doors on the side of his office that led to the portico and a path. The sun shone down on them, and the air was thick with the sweet perfume of summer roses. She wanted to stop for a second and raise her face to the light but Peter pulled her forward. They walked the neat little stone path, winding through bed after bed of roses — pink, yellow, white, blood red and every color combination in between.
In the distance, she saw a child with short, white-blond hair and a woman with the same hair, only it hung to her lower back. They both were so pale, Eryn thought they would both burn to soot if they stayed in the sun much longer.
“Harbee,” Peter called. The woman swayed back and forth in front of an easel. Her arm moved, striking charcoal onto the canvas in the wave of her movement. It reminded Eryn of dance. Yes, it looked like the woman was dancing with the canvas.
“Papa!” Paper and colored chalks were spread in front of her.
“Y’Ana!” Peter held his arms out and the little girl ran into them. He scooped her up and buried his head in her neck. Blowing his lips against the child’s skin, she giggled and cried for him to stop. Eryn couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She never thought she’d see Peter love anything but himself — but he certainly loved this little girl.
“What is it that you want from me, Peter,” Eryn asked.
Peter perched the child on his hip and turned to look at Eryn. His lips turned up at the corners. “Y’Ana, I would like you to meet your cousin, Eryn Hill. Eryn, this is my daughter, Y’Ana.”
The girl gave her a vacant smile, her pale blue eyes scanning Eryn’s body. “Are you my new governess?”
“Yes, Eryn, are you Y’Ana’s new governess?”
So that’s what this is supposed to be?
“I don’t know,” Eryn said. “I think that all depends on your father. I think he needs to tell me what he wants.”
“You said you wanted to join me yesterday,” Peter said. Eryn’s stomach twisted into a knot. He kissed Y’Ana on the cheek and put her back on the ground, whispering something in her ear. She nodded, and went back to her table and started drawing again. Peter settled his gaze on Eryn and she crossed her arms, feeling small. “You said you wanted to join me yesterday. Was that a lie or the truth? Or was it just a ploy to stay alive one more day?”
“I just want to go home,” Eryn said softly.
“Answer my questions and I’ll take you home.”
So this is what it came down to — a lie or the truth. Life or death. Eryn didn’t want to die.
“I meant it,” she said softly. “What is it that you want me to do?”
“Y’Ana needs a caretaker. She… can’t seem to keep governess. They all end up afraid of her.”
“Afraid of her? How old is she, five? What is there to be afraid of?”
“Six and she is…quite special. Like her mother. She needs nurturing —”
Eryn knew the story of Harbee Fein. A botched culling cost her, her sanity. Had they tried to cull the child, too? Is that why she was special? Or was she truly like Harbee in that she could control all five elements?
“How much nurturing?”
“There are many things I can teach her, but you, my little Mouse,” Peter stepped forward and traced his finger along Eryn’s cheek. “You are one of the strongest Wood Kaels I’ve ever met, stronger even than my mother. There are things you can teach her that I cannot. “
“You would trust me to do this? To teach your daughter how to read your thoughts?”
“I would,” Peter said. Something about the way he said it, though, made her think otherwise. There were words not said. She could feel them churning beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.
“And if I choose not to do this? “Eryn asked.
“Then you are free to join the traitors in the square,” Peter said.
“Traitors?” Eryn’s heart beat faster.
“Yes, those in the square are being made an example of. Maybe seeing the square would help you finalize your decision,” Peter said. Eryn tried to remember what her father had said about those Peter was making an example of. Some had been assigned to the stocks, some had been bound to boards and hung upside down and people were allowed to throw rotten food at them. Of course, some had been beheaded and their heads had been placed on stakes with a sign that read traitor attached to it. Eryn closed her eyes and prayed. Please, goddess, please let my father reach Cai. Please let them come for me. A smile cracked Peter’s face. She knew that look. It was the same one he always had whenever he’d won any of the games they had played as children. Peter raised his hand and a guardsman appeared. “Yes. I think that’s what you need, cousin. Take her to the square,” Peter said. The guardsman bowed at the waist, which struck Eryn as odd. Soldiers didn’t bow to commanders. Soldiers saluted. Bowing was for royalty. Was that how Peter saw himself? Was he now going to be King Peter?
The guardsman grabbed her by the top of the arm and led her back through the pathways and out onto the street. Part of her didn’t want to know what happened to traitors.
“Grulch,” a voice came from behind them, a voice filled with authority. The guardsman stopped and turned. The blond guardsman, Trygg, approached them. Grulch saluted Trygg.
“Go on, get back to your post. I’ll take her,” Trygg said.
“Sir?” Grulch said. “I thought the commander wanted me to do it.”
“Are you questioning my order, Guardsman?” Trygg said, sounding very authoritative.
“No, sir. Of course not, sir,” Grulch said. He shoved Eryn towards Trygg, saluted one more time and turned back to the mansion.
“Come on, let’s go,” Trygg said, grabbing her by the elbow and pushing her forward.
Eryn didn’t question him or argue with him, although she fantasized about it for just a moment. She pictured herself breaking away from his grip, running through the streets, hiding someplace until they stopped looking for her then finding her way back to the forest, back to the Sylvae. But it was just a fantasy.
The sounds and smells of the square and the thoughts of the people pressed in on her. Maybe it would’ve been better if she’d been born a Fire Kael or Metal Kael. At least then she wouldn’t have to hear everyone’s thoughts. She pressed her free hand to her temple and rubbed.
Trygg pulled her into an alleyway. “We’re almost there.”
“You could just let me go, you know. If I can’t read you, I know my cousin can’t read you,” she said
He laughed. “Sorry. If I came back without you, I would definitely… I would definitely end up like those I’m about to show you.”
“Then why are we
here?”
“Because I want to prepare you for what you’re about to see. And I want to tell you that unless you comply with whatever choice the commander has given you, the town square will be your fate. Do understand me?”
“They’re all dead, aren’t they? There are no stocks. No binding boards, are there?”
“Yes, they’re dead.” There was something pained in his eyes as he said the words. Maybe it was meant to comfort her, but it didn’t. “And you will be, too, unless you agree to his terms.”
“Maybe I would be better off dead,” she whispered and swiped an errant tear from her cheek.
“No, you wouldn’t,” he said, his gaze heavy on hers.
“Fine. Show me,” she said. “I need to see for myself.”
“Show you? Are you sure? It’s not a pretty sight.”
“Show me,” she said softly.
Trygg nodded and led her out of the alley. It only took a couple of minutes to get to the square. Her eyes scanned the open plaza and found no stocks, no torture board. Just dozens and dozens of stakes lining the square, in double-rows in some places. A sign attached to each one. A sign with just one word. Traitor. Sitting atop each stake was a head. Some had been there a long time, their rotted flesh had turned black and shrunken in the sun. Some were fresh, with blood still running down the wooden stake.
Eryn’s heart beat in her throat and her stomach twisted so tightly she thought she might vomit, not from the smell or from the thick swarm of flies buzzing around but from the idea that one of these heads could be hers if she did not proceed with caution. She stepped backwards, but Trygg had hold of her arm and forced her forward. Finally, he stopped, making her face one particular stake. Her chest tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look into his face.