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

by Wendy Wang

******

  Egan wrapped his fingers around the bars of his cell door and watched his wife walk away. She glanced back at him, her face full of apprehension. He lifted his fingers, waving and she smiled. According to her kiss, she still wanted him. The only thing clouding her head was her mother. Once he was free again, he could retrieve her and the boys and maybe he’d get to kill the old woman too. Sort of as a gift to himself.

  She and the boys disappeared through the door and it slammed behind them. The lock clicked into place. Egan rested his head against the bars and closed his eyes. Doubt darkened the edges of his thoughts. Where in Jerugia’s name was Toby Wyn? Why hadn’t he contacted him? It had been a week. Hope had died the minute D’Raq mentioned he needed his lifestone to make his plan work. The image of a glowing stone buried in a cold metal box among thousands of other metal boxes filled his head. They confiscated every prisoner’s lifestone and stored it for the duration of their stay or in his case, Cilla would be sent the stone once he hanged. A shiver whispered down his spine. No. He couldn’t let that happen.

  He needed her help and he could feel her longing for him, but had his kiss been enough to remind her of who she really belonged to?

  The lock rattled again and he slid his gaze to the door. A warden emerged with a small cart filled with flagons of water. Since his was the first cell, the warden served him before everyone else. He’d seen this warden several times before and each time, he’d thought the queen must be desperate. The warden couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He pushed the metal flask across the platform in his cell door. Egan wrapped his hand around it. Heat seared his fingertips and he jerked his hand away. The warden turned the flask over.

  “Sorry about that,” the warden whispered.

  Red script glowed against the pewter colored metal, making it easy to read. He scanned the text then glanced up at the warden.

  “Who sent this?” Egan cut his gaze left, towards D’Raq’s cell. He waited a beat, half expecting D’Raq’s thoughts to fill his head.

  “He said you would know, sir.” The warden took a step back from the cell door and glanced down the long hallway. Egan followed his line of sight and squinted his eyes. He could almost make out the clear glass orb implanted in the mortar above the door. A listener. That was the Emperor’s technology. How had the wardens gotten hold of it?

  “The plan’s changed.” The warden pivoted his body so his back was to the door.

  Egan narrowed his eyes. “Has it?”

  “Yes, sir.” The warden wrapped his fingers around the handle of the cart and looked towards the flagon. “Just keep reading.”

  Egan nodded and leaned his forearms against the bars. “What was the emergency about?”

  “There was a fire at the palace.”

  “A fire at the palace.” Egan repeated.

  The warden nodded and took a step forward. “I’ve got to go now,” he said and pushed the cart forward to continue delivering the water.

  Egan felt D’Raq’s eyes on him, but refused to look at him. He waited for the mental deluge, but it didn’t come. Egan uncorked the flagon, took a quick sip, expecting it to be warm from the heat of the writing but cool water slid down his throat. He reseated the cork and tucked it under his arm before getting comfortable on his cot. As soon as he tipped the flagon on its side the writing appeared again and he started to go over the plan that could have only come from Toby.

  Nineteen

  Cilla rushed back to the palace. Her skin thrummed with excitement and she kept touching her lips, unable to shake the feeling of Egan's kiss. Her belly fluttered. She would have to find a way to keep her feelings to herself. If her mother thought for a second she had let Egan back into her life, there would be a battle. It would be hard enough letting him go when the time came, she didn’t need her mother’s judgment and guilt. All she wanted was to love him while she still could.

  Another horn blew as she passed through the palace gates. Her heart sped up and she picked up her pace, rushing her boys towards the palace steps.

  “Mama, slow down,” Danny cried. Cilla reached down and scooped him onto her hip.

  “Come on Tom, keep up,” she scolded, holding tightly to his hand. He tripped and she caught him by his arm, righting him on his feet. He cried out in pain. “Stop it. Stop that crying right now.”

  Tom pulled his hand out of hers and stared up at her with watery eyes. His lip trembled. What was she doing? She stopped and bent down to his level.

  “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. Mama’s just on edge right now.” She brushed the tears from his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to yell.” She cupped his cheek and pulled him to her hugging him. Danny patted him on the head.

  “Is Daddy going to die?” He sniffled against her shoulder. Cilla moved them to the bottom step leading to the palace and arranged her sons on either side of her.

  She took a deep breath unsure of the words she needed. “I don’t know if your daddy is going to die. Do you know what it means? When someone dies?”

  Tom nodded his head slowly. “I don’t want Daddy to die.”

  She slipped her arm around him and pressed his head to her breast. “I don’t either. But right now, it might take a little divine intervention. Maybe if we put our hands together and said a prayer to the goddess, she would spare your daddy. “What do you think? You think we should pray for your daddy to be freed?”

  “I do!” Danny chirped.

  Tom nodded his head and sniffled. “Yes.”

  She hugged her boys tight.

  “Is Daddy bad, Mama?” Tom whispered. Cilla sighed and pressed her lips to the top of his head. “Is that why he’s in jail?”

  “Your daddy is not bad.” She rocked Tom a little, like she did when he was very small. The motion soothed her. “Sometimes he makes bad decisions. But he is not bad. He loves us very much.”

  Tom fell silent and she stroked his hair.

  “Do you know what I mean by bad decisions?” She asked. Tom shook his head. “Well hitting your brother is a bad decision. You do it because he drives you nuts. Which means you let him drive you nuts. But I guess that's to be expected at six years of age. Sometimes it's hard to control how we feel. Even when we're grown up,” she said. Tears prickled the back of her throat.

  “So Daddy can't control how he feels? Is that why he hurts you sometimes?”

  Cilla gaped at her son and her heart clogged her throat. He had witnessed too much at such a young age. She swallowed back the tears though. Egan loved them and he was different now. Maybe facing his own mortality had done some good.

  “He never means it baby,” she whispered against her sons head. “He loves us very, very much. You believe that don’t you?”

  Tom lifted his chin, his hazel eyes searching for her face. “Yes, mama.”

  Cilla hugged both of her boys close. “I am so lucky. I have you and Danny and your daddy. Did you know that?”

  “It's like Gran says,” Tom said. “We're just blessed.”

  “Blessed,” Danny echoed.

  Cilla sniffled and kissed Tom on the cheek. “Yes, we are my love. We certainly are.”

  “My butt's cold,” Danny said.

  Cilla laughed and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “Mine is too. I think we should go inside and see Y'Ana. What do you think?”

  “Can there be hot cider?” Tom asked.

  Cilla pushed to her feet and took his hand. She lifted Danny onto her hip. “Maybe.”

  “I like cider,” Tom said.

  “Me too, baby,” Cilla said guiding them inside. “Me too.”

  ******

  The acrid scent of smoke lingered in the air of the palace hallways and smudges of soot darkened the ceiling in places. What had happened here? A pair of wardens, Water Kaels, by the feel of them passed her, giving her a quick nod.

  “What happened here?” she said, stopping one of them.

  The blond warden, who reminded her a little bit of her cousin Trygg, smiled. “The building caught fire.”
r />   Cilla’s hand went to her throat. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, ma’am. The queen put it out before it could do too much damage. She called us in as a precaution.”

  “I see,” she said. “How did it start?”

  “I can answer her questions, young man,” her mother said from the steps. “You go ahead and get back to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said giving her a nod.

  “Mama,” Cilla asked. “What’s going on? The palace caught fire? How did that happen?”

  Her mother sighed, the wrinkles in her face deflating, making her look older than her forty-six years. Her mother scowled. “Y'Ana lost control after you left.”

  “Jerugia’s crown, is she all right?”

  “Of course she’s all right,” her mother snapped. “The queen is seeing to her now.”

  Cilla sighed internally. Her mother was still mad at her. She frowned. “Is that why they locked down the prison?”

  “I don’t know,” her mother said not meeting her eyes.

  She mentally went through everyone’s affinities. “Did anyone get burned or hurt? Sorrel?”

  “Sorrel is fine.”

  “What about the queen is she all right?”

  “The queen is fine,” her mother said. “If it were up to me I would have that child culled. She's a danger.”

  “Mama,” she scolded, glancing around. Her mother could be so opinionated, and that was fine on the farm or at her aunt’s house, but it could be taken the wrong way here.

  “What? She can't control her emotions and she’s already able to command all five elements. One of these days she's going to really hurt someone when she can’t have her way.”

  “She's just a little girl.” Cilla protested.

  “All the more reason to cull her now. She’s still young enough that it won't affect her.” Tahlulah said. A pair of boots clacked on the stairway drawing Cilla’s attention.

  The queen approached them with a defiant expression on her face. “I’m going to have to disagree with you about that Ms. Beckett,” the queen said. “I saw what culling did to her mother and I would never want to put anyone through that.”

  “Your Majesty —” her mother said. “I apologize if I’ve offended you but that's why culling should be done when a child is younger than seven. To minimize repercussions. It’s a perfectly safe procedure. I’ve performed it myself on several occasions and none of the children grew up affected as you say.”

  “Lucky for them.” The queen put her hands on her hips and jutted her chin. Her tone edged into anger. “But I would never take that chance with Y'Ana, especially since she’s on the cusp of seven and eight. My mother didn't believe in culling and neither do I.”

  “Again, I am sorry if I offended, Your Majesty.” Tahlulah bowed her head.

  “Apology accepted. Just, please don't discuss it again especially around Y'Ana.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Cilla said. “We won't do anything to upset her.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Her shoulders dropped along with her hands. Cilla could see how the queen could be a formidable force just by the confident way she held her body and the stubborn jut of her chin. “How was your visit with your husband, Cilla?”

  “It was —” Cilla paused and took a breath, searching her thoughts to determine the best thing to say. “It was good for the boys to see him again. He loves them very much.”

  “I am sure he does.” The queen smiled, but it never touched her eyes.

  “I've been thinking I should leave soon. Go home. I don't want the boys present when his fate is carried out,” Cilla said.

  “That’s understandable,” the queen said. “I'm sorry this has put you in such a hard position.”

  Cilla nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Still,” the queen said, her blue eyes fixed on Cilla. It was almost as if the queen was looking inside her. Cilla focused on the memory of Egan interacting with her sons. How happy it made them. The queen blinked and glanced away. “His—fate— won’t occur for a week yet. Perhaps you should stay for a little while.”

  “All right,” Cilla said softly. “If that is what you wish.”

  The queen glanced down at Tom and nodded. “You know what Tom? Y'Ana is drawing with Sorrel in the breakfast room and cook just brought up some hot apple cider and oatmeal cookies.”

  “She is?”

  “Yes. But I bet you don’t like cookies or hot cider, do you?” She teased.

  “I do so like them. Oatmeal is my favorite.”

  “Well then you’d best hurry and get them before Y'Ana eats them all up.”

  Tom tugged on his mother’s arm. “Mama, did you hear? There are cookies. Can Danny and I have some? Please, Mama?”

  “I can’t very well argue with cookies, can I? Come on you two. Let’s spoil your appetite thoroughly.”

  Cilla took the boys and headed towards the family quarters, trying to ignore the heaviness on the back of her neck. Had the queen seen Egan in her mind, kissing her? Making her want him? All she could do was pray the answer was no.

  ******

  Egan slid the sharpened edge of the disk against the leather harness on his wrist. The damn things were impervious though and no matter how hard he pressed or sawed it didn't even leave a mark.

  I thought you were a warden once.

  Egan gritted his teeth and his fingers curled into a fist.

  I was.

  He was so sick of D’Raq just dropping into his head any time he wanted. It made him glad he wasn't Ethavian. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with other people’s thoughts all the time.

  Then you know the harnesses cannot be unbound with a blade.

  Shut up D'Raq. They can be sliced open like any other piece of leather with the right blade.

  If you say so.

  Egan continued to saw back and forth across the harness. The leather grew hot from friction but when he pulled the blade away it looked completely unmarred. Egan growled and threw the disk across the length of his cell. A noise of disgust came from down the hall. The disk turned itself up onto its edge and rolled towards the cell door. Egan scowled. Toby's instructions had been clear on the flagon. He was to get out of his harnesses by whatever means necessary.

  Having trouble?

  Screw you D'Raq.

  Doesn't work very well when you try to play both sides does it?

  I don't know what you're talking about.

  Of course you do. When Toby Wyn didn't appear suddenly you took up my offer of alliance. But as soon as Wyn reappears you turn your back on me.

  Toby Wyn has nothing to do with why I won't help you. What you want is impossible.

  And obviously Wyn’s instructions are more impossible. So it appears you’re caught between an impossible place and a more impossible place.

  Egan rolled his eyes.

  What time is your wife coming today?

  Egan threw his hands in the air. He had purposefully tried not to think about Cilla visiting today just so D’Raq would stay out of his business.

  How do you know she is?

  I pay attention. And you should too. Did it occur to you that Wyn’s plan might actually complement my plan?

  Egan raked his hands through his hair. No.

  Perhaps we should all work together.

  No.

  A soft chuckle drifted through the corridor.

  What's so funny?

  You are Crane.

  Am I?

  Indeed, you are. You divide up your toys and put them into boxes. Nice neat little organized boxes with high sides. You think the toys shouldn't touch but that's your mistake. Ultimately they are all just toys. Meant to be played with together.

  I don't know what you’re talking about.

  Silence enveloped him and for a moment he thought maybe D’Raq had finally gotten the message. Egan stretched out on his cot. He folded his hands over his waist and laced his fingers together.

  Toby Wyn is insane. If you follow
his plan you will all get killed.

  What are you talking about?

  A small task force, with Toby in the lead, breaking into the palace? That is suicide.

  And sending my wife looking for your lifestone in a heavily guarded area is insanity. So there you go.

  Indeed. Perhaps you’re right.

  I know I’m right.

  Perhaps we could get them ourselves.

  What are you talking about? That’s almost as impossible as having my wife do it.

  Is it? All we need is a baton. I bet your pretty wife could help us get that.

  A cold finger of dread touched Egan’s heart and the hair on his neck stood at attention.

  And what exactly are you proposing?

  I’m proposing she help us escape.

  Us?

  Yes, Crane. Us. You won’t make it far on your own. If you help me get my lifestone. I will personally ensure you and Toby Wyn get into the palace to carry out your mission. Regardless of how futile it is.

  Why would you do that? Silence. Of course! Egan’s jaw tightened.

  You’re not the only one who has something to gain by taking the palace.

  What do you have to gain?

  If you help me get my lifestone, I will show you.

  Egan sighed. Fine. I’ll help you if you help me.

  I believe we have a deal Egan Crane.

  Good. Now. Get out of my head.

  A soft chuckle echoed down the corridor, but finally there was silence in Egan’s head.

  Twenty

  Cilla followed the warden through the maze of corridors keeping her eyes straight ahead. One of the inmates puckered his lips and made kissing noises at her. Another inmate called her sweetheart and demanded that she look at him. She held her head high and folded her arms across her chest and picked up her pace to walk next to the warden. If Egan had heard any of them in their lewd comments he would've beaten them all within an inch of their lives. None of them had said anything to her when she had two small boys with her yesterday but alone it appeared to be open season. They kept to the middle of the corridors just out of arms reach but it didn't stop the inmates from sticking their hands out and trying to grab hold of her. When one came too close the warden charged his baton and came down hard on the man's wrist. She swallowed hard when she heard the bone crunch. Her inner healer immediately wanted to jump into action but another part of her was glad that he couldn't touch her. Finally, they got to the cell block where the tarry-men and half of the lifers lived. Egan’s cell was the first on the left and again, just like yesterday, there was a bench in front of Egan's cot. The warden opened his cell door and she stepped inside.