The Book of Kaels Bundle (Books 2 - 4): The Wood Kael, The Metal Kael, The Fire Kael

by Wendy Wang

  “Mmm hmmm.” Neala closed her eyes letting Cai's fingers do their magic.

  “I received a communiqué today,” Cai said.

  “That’s not really news,” she teased. “You receive communiqués almost every day.”

  Cai had managed to develop a network of spies in all five realms even those that had been conquered or like Iberebeth had disappeared. Most of the communications were about troop movement or whether a new target had fallen to Peter’s attacks.

  “Can you go just a little lower?” she said, and he slid his thumb towards the middle of her back. “Yes. That's the spot. Jerugia’s crown you are good at this. You could give up being the chief and just be my masseuse.”

  He leaned down and kissed her softly on her neck. “Your back is very tight. You're worrying too much.”

  “That is my biggest duty, to worry,” she said.

  “Really? I don’t recall that being written down anywhere.”

  “Well maybe not. Why don’t you tell me about your communiqué?” She changed the subject. He moved the sheet of hair cascading over her shoulder away from her neck and kissed his way up to her ear. “Cai,” she breathed, pulling out of his reach so she could look him in the eye. “Tell me.”

  “I received a note from Eryn today.”

  “Is she all right?” Neala said.

  “Yes she’s fine. She said Peter received an interesting addition to the household this week. A young seer named Sorrel. She sent me the note because the girl had mentioned she was taken after working with the queen,” Cai said.

  “Thank you Jerugia, she's alive,” Neala said hopping to her feet. “We have to go get her.”

  “Just settle down for a moment. Let's think this through,” Cai said.

  “I promised her I would keep her safe,” she said. “We have to go get her Cai.”

  “Not today,” Cai said the line between his brow grew deep and he frowned. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice crescendoed and she studied his face. His eyes refused to meet hers, and he clenched his jaw.

  “Nothing,” Cai said. “It doesn’t mean anything. Sorrel is safe for the moment.” Neala didn't have to read him to know he was lying.

  “Caius Roane Declan.” She put her hands on her hips. “Gordon told you to tell me, didn’t he?”

  “No,” he said too emphatically. “Of course not.”

  “Why are you lying to me?”

  Cai’s cheeks reddened and he gritted his teeth. “I am not lying to you.”

  “Sorrel is important to me Cai.”

  “More important than the other hundred thousand Kaels expecting you to lead them? To act like their queen instead of an impulsive child?”

  “Every single Kael is important to me.”

  “I don’t know, Neala. I see you putting one above the others. It’s not something your mother would’ve done.”

  He may as well have taken her dagger and shoved it through her gut. Her mouth gaped.

  “I am not my mother.” Neala shrugged away from his touch and rose to her feet. “And I am not an impulsive child.”

  “Neala, I—” He reached for her, grabbing her by the arm. Her gaze cut to his hands and her mouth gaped.

  “Let me go,” she said, her tone full of warning. Cai’s eyebrows raised and his eyes widened, as if he’d been surprised by his actions. His fingers opened, releasing her. She took a step backwards and shook her head, swallowing the hot tears in the back of her throat.

  “Please, Neala. We need to talk about this.”

  “Are you sorry?” she asked softly.

  He sighed and his shoulders strained. “Let’s just talk.”

  “No, I don’t have anything to say.” She rushed from the room, refusing to let the tears fall until the door slammed hard behind her, echoing down the hall.

  ******

  Sorrel awoke with the smell of sulfur and heat in the back of her throat. The thin white nightgown she wore clung to her body, soaked with sweat. Her eyes scanned the room—she was still in Ethavia. Still a captive. It had been a dream. A horrific and realistic dream. Rising quickly, she crossed to the desk and began to scribble. The charcoal snapped in two, but it didn’t stop her from recording every detail.

  She closed her eyes, letting the images of chaos fill her senses. She was searching for Jorgen and Raemah trying to find them while soldiers from two armies clashed around them. When she finally saw them, she screamed their names, but when they approached it wasn’t Jorgen and Raemah—it was Queen Neala and Gordon.

  Her fingers stopped moving against the paper and Sorrel focused. Her technique was no longer just simple pictographs. The drawing lying before her was a scene from her dream—more detailed than anything she’d ever drawn before and she recognized the place immediately. Egan had taken her there, had threatened to kill her and her friends. A knock at the door startled her from her reverie and she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It read 3:15 AM.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “It's Eryn.” The sound of keys scraping set her teeth on edge and the lock clicked. Eryn pushed open the door. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Sorrel said.

  “I thought I heard you scream,” Eryn said. “But I'm not sure if it was out loud or just in your thoughts.”

  “I don't know either. I had—a dream.”

  “What kind of dream?” Eryn asked moving closer. “Like a vision kind of dream?”

  “I don't know.” Sorrel grabbed the knitted throw from the back of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. She fingered the corner of the paper, leaving blackened fingerprints. “I drew this.”

  Eryn walked over to the desk and picked up the drawing. Worry etched lines into her forehead. “What is this place?”

  “It’s a labor camp. Egan took me to it right before he brought me here. It’s where my fr—” she started to say friends but stopped herself. “Where my family is being held.”

  Eryn laid the paper back on the desk. “The boy? The one you’re always thinking about?”

  “Jorgen,” Sorrel whispered.

  “He’s not your brother, though.”

  “No,” Sorrel’s lips curved a little. “He’s—he’s my heart.”

  A shadow crossed Eryn’s face and she nodded. “I know what that’s like.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. In the flickering lamp light Eryn looked much too old for her years. “Tell me about the dream. You don't even have to say it out loud if it's too difficult. Just show me. In your head.”

  “It must be exhausting hearing everyone’s thoughts,” Sorrel said.

  “Ethavians can hide their thoughts.” Eryn shrugged. “And anyway, most people's thoughts are boring. Usually about mundane things so I can ignore them pretty easily.”

  “But you don’t ignore mine,” Sorrel said.

  “It’s my job not to,” Eryn said taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

  Sorrel nodded. “You care for him. The emperor?”

  “He’s the only family I have here and he’s been kind to me.” Eryn glanced down at her hands resting in her lap. Something in her words rung hollow. “And if you let him, he’ll be kind to you too. You just have to give him what he needs.”

  “And what does he need?”

  “He needs—” Eryn paused a moment, her eyes blinking too fast as if she didn’t know the answer. “He needs to know the choices he’s making are right.”

  “Right for who? For all Kaels? Or for himself.”

  “Sorrel, I’m only gonna say this once. Things will go much easier if you just give him what he wants.” Eryn stared at her for a good long moment. Pain flitted across her face and disappeared. “There are some things not worth fighting over.”

  Sorrel nodded and her gaze drifted to Eryn’s arms. Without thinking she pressed her thumb lightly against Eryn’s skin. The shape matched but the bruise was bigger than Sorrel’s thumb
. “He's been hurting you.”

  “No,” Eryn said. “This was my fault. I said something that upset him and it's my fault really.”

  “Will it be your fault when he kills you?” There was no derision or even judgment in her voice, just truth.

  “What?” Eryn asked.

  Sorrel rifled through some papers on her desk until she found what she was looking for. “This. This is you.” She pointed to the figure of a short woman. “And this is him. If you don’t do something, he will lose his temper and he will kill you.”

  Eryn's hands shook as she took the paper from Sorrel. “These just look like scribbles I don't believe—”

  “All right. What about this?” Sorrel closed her eyes and called up the images of Eryn and Peter arguing. Peter stood over her and raised his hand. Eryn stumbled backwards onto a wide balcony. A row of dolls on a high shelf, watched with unblinking eyes as he picked her up and threw her over the metal railing. Sorrel’s eyes flew open.

  “Stop!” Eryn dropped the drawing and clutched at her head. “Please just stop. I've seen enough.”

  “I guess we're both prisoners here,” Sorrel said.

  “I chose to stay. I could've left but I chose to stay.” Eryn covered her face with her hands and hung her head. Her voice shook as she spoke, “Do your visions always come true?”

  “Just because I see the future doesn't mean it's written. It can change at any time. All you have to do is decide to make it different. To be different and then do it.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Simple maybe, but easy? No,” Sorrel sat down on the bed next to Eryn, wishing she had been apprenticed with a seer. If she could have trained, she would have known exactly what steps to take to guide Eryn to avoid this outcome but no one had seen her as a seer. No one but Jorgen and the queen.

  Eryn’s dainty shoulders shook as she wept into her hands and Sorrel draped her arm across them, consoling her. Words had never been her strongest gift and most of the time she found them to be the coldest sort of comfort. After a few minutes Eryn’s tears waned and then finally stopped. She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  “Sorrel? Is it possible for a seer to be wrong?”

  “Of course,” Sorrel said drawing her arm from around Eryn’s shoulders. “There is all sorts of bias that can color a vision.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that a vision’s interpretation is completely at the discretion of the seer. I may see it in my head one way but how I interpret it can be tainted by my opinion.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong then. About Peter,” Eryn’s eyes flickered towards her.

  “Maybe,” Sorrel whispered. “But I don’t think so.”

  Eryn’s teeth clamped onto her bottom lip and she nodded her head, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “None of this is written. You can still change it. You don’t have to die.”

  Eryn nodded and picked up the drawing at her feet. She stared down at it for a long moment. “Can I keep this?”

  “Of course,” Sorrel said.

  Eryn folded the piece of paper and slipped it inside the pocket of her robe. She hesitated as if there was something she wanted to say but instead she pressed her lips into a straight line and hopped to her feet. “I'm going back to bed.”

  “All right,” Sorrel said. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Eryn said. She stopped at the door and glanced back at Sorrel. “You know, I'll do everything I can to protect you.”

  “And I'll do the same,” Sorrel said.

  Eryn forced a smile and disappeared into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. Sorrel waited for the lock to turn but the click never came. A few minutes later she opened the door and stepped out into the empty hallway. Closing her eyes, she turned in a circle, stretching out her arms. Freedom. Egan's face rose up in her mind and her arms floated down to her sides. As long as Jorgen and Raemah were in that place she would never be free. There had to be a way to get them out. Yes, there had to be a way and she was going to find it.

  ******

  Neala leaned against the banister of the catwalk on the roof of the warden's base. Cai had brought her here the first time. This is where she showed him that he was her match. Where he first kissed her. Where he first told her he loved her. She sniffled and swiped at the tears wetting her cheeks.

  She looked down at the open fields where the boys and girls from the warden's Academy often played games. It was a cold autumn day though, over cast and gray. No one was playing games today. The wind whipped around her blowing her ponytail to and fro. She felt him before he sidled up next to her.

  “Majesty,” he said softly.

  “Gordon,” she said, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “How’d you find me?”

  “I know you like to come here sometimes to think.”

  Neala nodded.

  “It looks like it could snow.” He stared out over the field to the city beyond.

  “That would be nice,” she muttered. “Did Cai send you?”

  “Not exactly,” he chuckled. “Last I checked marriage counseling isn’t part of my duties.”

  “So how do you know then.”

  “What? About your fight? He may have asked me to help him look for you. And the rest, well, you know how the maids talk.”

  Neala put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset, even if he was being a complete jackass. Why is this so hard?”

  “He’s been known to lose his temper too on occasion.”

  “Yes, but not like me.”

  “You’re passionate. Believe me he likes that, even if it makes him crazy.”

  Neala sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know what to do Gordon. Tell me what to do.”

  Gordon gave her a sideways glance and chuckled. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

  “I could make you a formal adviser. Then you’d have to give me your opinion.”

  “C’mon Majesty, no one wants old Gordon Gubler’s official opinion.” He leaned his 6’3” frame forward and rested his forearms on the banister. “Did you know I was married once?”

  “You were?” Neala glanced up at him aghast. How could she have not known this? She spent hours with Gordon nearly every day. They talked about everything, or so she thought.

  “Don’t look so surprised.” He folded his hands together and met her gaze.

  Neala opened her mouth but closed it. A question dangled from the tip of her tongue, but she could not quite ask it. Finally, she swallowed and said, “Why have you never spoken of her?”

  Gordon sighed, his dark green eyes glittered, but not with their usual mischief. “I don’t talk about her much.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s dead,” he said bluntly. “And my sad sack story is not any different than yours really.”

  “I don’t have—” she started but stopped. The image of her mother’s broken body filled her mind, followed by that of her sister Francie as she held her hand and felt the life drain out of her. The strange numb fingers of grief squeezed around her heart, making it hard to breath for a moment.

  “You were going to tell me you don’t have one,” he said matter-of-factly. “Till you realized that you do. You know your story is the one thing that really connects you to your people. They love you for sharing your pain with them. Instead of hiding behind the palace walls like your mother did when your father died.”

  “My mother didn’t hide,” she protested, but sounded weak even to her own ears.

  Gordon quirked an eyebrow and she scowled at him. He was right about her mother. Her grief had separated her, not just from her people but from her family too.

  “You are right to want to march beside your people in battle. They respect you for it and love you for it. And even though my first duty is to protect you, I will also be your biggest advocate for taking part in defending the realms.”

  “I
hear a ‘but’ coming.”

  “But.” He grinned and emphasized the word. “You’re not right about fetching Sorrel. It would be a waste of resources and possibly lives.”

  Neala pushed her breath out and closed her eyes. “I promised her I’d keep her safe.”

  “Your heart was in the right place, but you could not keep that promise, even as queen. No one could. The world is not safe—even in peace time.” He placed his heavy hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

  “So we just leave her at Peter’s mercy?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He chuckled.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Come on Majesty. Use that big brain of yours and start from the premise that attacking Ethavia is not an option. How do we get Sorrel out safely?”

  Neala let her gaze drift to the view of the city in the distance. The buildings that normally gleamed in the sunlight looked dull and flat in the stark grayness of the day. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. Close your eyes.” He leaned in close, his shoulder touching hers. “Think. What do we know?”

  “His borders are as tight as ours barring their ability to punch a hole in the sky. I’m not even sure how Eryn is getting messages to us.”

  “Well I can answer that. Through a network of loyalists, some who are authorized to leave the realm.”

  “So maybe we have Eryn sneak her out through this network.”

  “Possibly. I don’t know enough about Eryn’s situation—what she has access to. Only the chief has those details. I do know she’s given us very good intelligence so far on troop movement and Peter’s state of mind since losing Harbee and his daughter. She’s saved a lot of our men’s lives and allowed us to keep Peter out of Tamarik and Casilladin so far.”

  “So we protect Eryn at all cost. Even if it means leaving Sorrel working with Peter?”

  “Maybe.” Gordon furrowed his brow and pressed his thumbs against his lips.

  “Peter doesn’t know what happened to Harbee does he?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said shaking his head.