by Devri Walls
Outside the castle walls the villagers buzzed with excitement as they waited for the parade to begin. King Rowan sent out food for the villagers every year before the parade. It was the only day of the year that everyone ate well. The sound of well-fed children giggling made him smile despite his mood.
Hunters streamed towards the main castle ballroom dressed in their finery. Tybolt headed towards the east entrance and the stairs that led up to the great picture window where he’d told Auriella to meet him. A female Hunter named Tilly stepped in front of him, pulling him up short. She was wearing a stunning shade of blue silk, and her long dark hair spilled over her shoulders. “Tybolt,” she said.
“Tilly.”
“Would you do me the honor of escorting me tonight?” Tilly smiled coyly and held out her arm as if sure of his answer.
“I’m sorry, but I’m already escorting someone.”
Tilly’s eyes narrowed. “Are you still chasing after the ice princess?”
“Why, Tilly, I don’t recall chasing you.”
“Neither do I,” she snapped. “Which is a shame, because Auriella is no longer available, and when you come crawling back, looking for someone to—”
“What are you talking about?”
Tilly smirked. “Wait until you see her dress.” She turned and walked off.
Tybolt’s blood turned to frozen crystals in his veins. He forced his feet forward and pulled open the doors. With every step, Tilly’s words pounded through his head—wait until you see her dress—but he didn’t want to see. He hesitated, staring at the pattern of stars and sunbursts on the piece of carpet that ran up the main staircase.
His breath caught in his throat. Standing on the landing with her back to him was Auriella. She wore an emerald green silk dress that plunged low in the back, exposing her shoulder blades and the lower curve of the spine. Her long dark hair was piled on top of her head, showing off her long neck. She was a vision, marred only by the knowledge that this vision was not meant for him.
A Hunter bumped into him, jolting him out of his trance. Tybolt mumbled an apology and made his way up the stairs. She didn’t acknowledge his presence. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“No.”
He stepped up next to her and glanced sideways. The dress was dangerously low in the front as well. A tantalizing show of cleavage spilled over the top of her dress. Mercy.
“The queen is ill.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said, knowing full well it was a lie.
“You know it does. Look at this.” She tugged at her neckline, trying to pull it up. “I am on display. He’s looking for the next one.”
He held his elbow out. “Then we’ll just have to dance at the back, won’t we?”
This earned a weak smile, and she slipped her arm though his.
They walked through the open double doors into the main ballroom. The lively music was played by a small string ensemble the king kept on staff. Servers moved through the room holding trays loaded with copious amounts of appetizers. Gamel’s question returned: Do you ever wonder where it all comes from? Surely the king’s coffers are empty by now.
Tilly stood across the ballroom, glaring. Tybolt pulled Auriella as close as he dared and wrapped one arm around her waist, taking her right hand in his. They made a few turns around the floor before Auriella leaned into him, her mouth next to his ear. “Tybolt, he’s watching us.
Tybolt turned her so that he could see the front of the room. The king sat on his throne, and his eyes were fixated on Auriella with a hunger. Damn.
“Do you want to eat?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
“Good, I didn’t want to stay for dinner anyway. Let’s get out of here.”
Her hand clenched his. “Tybolt, we can’t.”
“Sure we can. The king said we must attend. We’ve attended. Nobody said we had to eat. Come on.” He pulled his arm from her waist and gave her a reassuring smile. He was trying to remain calm for Auriella’s sake. But the truth was he was anything but calm.
Maybe if he could get her out of the king’s sight, another Hunter would catch his eye. There was no shortage of beauty in the room tonight. He pulled her through the crowd, but one glance over his shoulder told him the king was watching every step she took.
Tybolt pulled Auriella up another set of stairs and onto one of the balconies that overlooked the village. The sound of children laughing wafted up, and torches flickered in the streets below as the people made their way to the parade route. Auriella stared silently, gripping the rail so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Tybolt pulled a copper from his pocket and slapped it onto the railing. She jumped. “For your thoughts,” he said. “Eight missions and one night sneaking through the village, yet it seems I hardly know you at all.”
“You know me well enough.”
“Not really. I know you don’t like it when I speak of the past, or when I burn dinner.” He smiled to himself and added softly, “Maybe someday you will trust me enough to tell me what makes you tick, Auriella Doshire.”
“You haven’t told me much of yourself either, aside from your love of bacon.”
He leaned back against the rail. “What an impasse we have. Perhaps we should try to bridge it.”
Auriella did not look at him. Her eyes still stared out across the distance. He waited.
“I will never be the king’s wife,” she said fiercely. “Never.”
“Let’s not worry about that tonight.” He wrapped his hand over hers. “Once this celebration is over, I’m taking you on a hunt to get you away from the palace for a while.
“Hunting who?”
“I might have a lead, but I’ll make something up if I have to.”
“You would do that for me?”
The look of bewilderment on her face wounded him. He would do anything for her—he’d known it from the second mission they’d taken together. “Of course.”
She shivered and pulled her hand from beneath his to run her hands up and down her bare arms.
“Would you like me to get your cloak?”
Her mouth twisted. “I was instructed not to wear my cloak. I told you, he wants me on display.”
“If the king were smart, he would know better than to try to tame you. Fiery, mean, spiteful…”
She slugged him.
“Ow! Did I mention mean?” Tybolt laughed, rubbing his arm. “Surely he has more sense than that.”
She grinned. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For trying to make me feel better.”
“Trying?” he scoffed. “I can see a smile. I think that qualifies as succeeding, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well, you did make me smile. I guess that is something.”
Tybolt laughed. “A smile from the ever sober Auriella is much more than something, I assure you.” It lit up the corners of his soul like nothing else could.
Auriella shivered. The caress of the night air on her bare skin did more than just chill her. It refused to allow her to forget the humiliation of being put on display like an animal. Tybolt had asked her to come with him to collect Aja from his cell, but she wasn’t going anywhere until she found her cloak. She was to meet Sarah in the stables and took the long way, around the back side of the castle, to avoid everyone’s roving eyes. But halfway there the feeling of someone watching her sent tingles up her spine. She looked to her right and left but found no one. Slowly she turned and looked up. There, standing on a balcony, was King Rowan.
King Rowan was neither attractive nor unattractive. He had short brown hair, light blue eyes, and a general lack of defining features. He was shorter than she and slight of frame, with a thin neck that looked too weak to hold the crown sitting on his brow. Something about him made her skin crawl whenever his eyes were on her.
She swallowed and picked up her pace, cutting between the stables to remove herself from the king’s line of sight. She opened the back door and stepp
ed inside, closing it quickly behind her. Breathing hard, she slumped against the door, her heart thumping loudly against her chest. One of the horses snorted and kicked the walls of his stall.
“Auriella.”
She jolted straight up. “Terric!”
Terric leaned against Fire Dancer’s stall, his eyes fixed on her breasts. “That is a lovely dress.”
“Shut up, Terric.”
Terric took three swift steps and shoved his hands into her shoulder, slamming her back against the door. “Don’t tell me to shut up, Auriella. It makes me angry.”
“Terric—”
“I asked you to go to the ball with me, Auriella. You told me no. I believe your exact wording was, ‘I don’t need an escort.’ Being the respectful gentleman that I am, I took you at your word. Imagine my surprise when you walked in with Tybolt.”
Terric was twice her size in height, weight, and muscle. His palms pressed into her collarbones while his fingers reached clear to her shoulder blades. A feeling of helplessness rose within her that she’d sworn she would never feel again.
“Get off me!” She brought her knee up hard, catching him in the groin. He stumbled backwards and she cracked his jaw with her elbow, shoving his face to the side. “What the hell! I am not one of your village girls.”
Terric glared up at her, still crouched over. “That was foolish.”
“You think you can just take what you want? I’m not a prize!” She stepped into him, “If you ever touch me again, I swear, Terric—I will gut you.”
He slowly straightened, never breaking eye contact. His chest heaved and Auriella tensed, ready for an attack. Let him break her nose. It would make her less attractive for the king.
Then the door on the other side of the stable creaked open. Terric’s head snapped in the direction of the sound.
“Someone’s coming,” Auriella said. “Are you going to fight both of us?”
He wanted to say something, she could tell by the way his lips quivered, but then he clenched his jaw and turned on his heel, heading for the opposite door.
Terric had always leered, made comments, and stared. But never had he dared to lay his hands on her.
“My lady, I’ve been looking everywhere for…what’s wrong?” Sarah stood in front of her with a cloak draped over her arms.
“Nothing, I’m just cold.” She wrapped the cloak around herself and clasped it at the neck with the red enameled skull of the Hunters. She stood taller, feeling less vulnerable with the heavy fabric covering her. “I need to get down to the Hold before I’m missed.”
Tybolt walked behind Kelton as they headed to the Hold to retrieve Aja. Kelton’s head and hands were freakishly large, and he had a cruel streak that put even Terric to shame. His lack of intelligence further complicated things. Kelton was one of two Hunters who spent their time on one side of Terric or the other. The other sidekick in the group was Asher, who was a bit of an enigma to Tybolt. Asher seemed nice, intelligent even—when you found him alone. But most of the time he seemed happy to follow Terric and Kelton and do their bidding.
The first door to the Hold opened, and they stepped into the small room between. Kelton waited until the door closed to take a deliberate step back. He ground his heel into the top of Tybolt’s foot and jammed an elbow into his stomach. Tybolt fell against the door, his eyes watering from the pain in his foot.
Kelton chuckled in the darkness. “Can’t seem to keep my balance today. Hope I didn’t injure those dancing feet of yours.”
Tybolt clenched his fists at his side. A fight in a small space with Kelton would not end well for him. “Feet are fine, thank you for your concern.”
“You and Auriella disappeared quick tonight.” At least that’s what Tybolt thought he said. It came out more like, “You an Aurla disserpd quik night.”
“Needed some fresh air. The lady was feeling faint.”
“Bet so. You better back off—Terric’s got his eyes on her.”
“You don’t say.”
“He takes what he wants. Don’t get in the way.”
Tybolt’s head snapped up. “What?” The next door opened and Kelton strode forward without replying. A sick feeling wound its way through him that had nothing to do with the smell.
Kelton’s wording ate away at him as they walked. The fact that Rowan had his eyes on Auriella was obvious. Was Terric really stupid enough to try to take her by force?
Tybolt walked with his head down, thinking. A faint flash of purple caught his eye. It was so faint he almost missed it. He stopped and looked closer. Another flash came from nearby, and then another. Tybolt glanced at Kelton. He hadn’t noticed anything and was still lumbering down the row. Tybolt crouched down. At the bottom of the door a tiny mark—two interlocking circles etched into the stone—flickered purple.
He ran his fingers over it. The color was so faint and its glow so dim it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed it before. All around the Hold the interlocking circles flickered once more and then went black again. Tybolt peered into the cell he was crouched in front of. The wizard sagged against the wall, looking even more lifeless than usual.
Tybolt stood and jogged to catch up with Kelton. Ahead, the final cell looked empty. “Where’s Aja?” Tybolt asked.
“He’s in there.”
Tybolt looked around Kelton’s shoulder, searching the seemingly empty cell. Aja always stood at the bars, proud and strong, his eyes and body language alone defying anyone who came near. Today he was slumped in the back corner.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Who cares?” Kelton said. He slid his key into the lock.
They pulled Aja’s arms over their shoulders and lifted him like a broken doll. Aja’s head dropped forward and his toes dragged as they hauled him down the main corridor.
The final door of the Hold opened and the freshness of the outside air rushed to greet them, moist and smelling like rain. A clap of thunder rolled inland. Aja pulled his head up and looked towards the coast, his eyes almost mournful.
The rage Tybolt kept so neatly buried reared its head, and he wanted to drop Aja to the ground and kick him. “Come on,” he growled.
The moment they dragged Aja out of the prison, he regained his strength. Aja put his feet down and stood straight, pulling his chin up to resume his defiant position. Even Kelton found this odd and looked at Aja like a viper about to strike.
Tybolt removed Aja’s arm from his shoulder and pulled it tightly behind the wizard’s back, securing his wrists with iron cuffs. “Get him in the cage.”
In the courtyard between the castle and the Hold, and safely behind the gates, stood a large wooden barred box on wheels. It was harnessed to six horses that had been groomed and brushed until they shined. Each horse had a large black plume on its head, and their manes had been intricately braided.
Asher opened the door to the wooden cage while Tybolt and Kelton pushed Aja up the two small stairs suspended from the wagon. Tybolt noticed another symbol, the two interlocking circles, carved on the edge of the cage. How had he never noticed these before?
Once inside, Aja turned and fixed his eyes on Tybolt. The look was intense and held emotions that Tybolt didn’t understand and didn’t want to. Tenderness, sadness…maybe more. Something about his gaze brought a sense of déjà vu, and it slid through his mind like a whisper.
“Looks like you have an admirer, Tybolt,” Kelton said. “Maybe he likes those pretty blue eyes of yours.”
Tybolt jolted. “I bet he’s wondering how I put up with your mouth.”
“Do you wanna say that to my face?”
Tybolt leaned just far enough forward to remain out of Kelton’s range. He put one hand to the side of his mouth in a mock whisper. “I believe I just did.”
Kelton lunged forward only to be jerked back by Asher. “Not on Festival—the king will have your head.”
“And we can’t have that now, can we?” Tybolt said to Kelton. “You without a head would be…” He shrugged. �
��Frankly, I don’t think there would be much difference.”
Kelton growled and jerked against Asher’s grip.
Tybolt had to turn away to keep from laughing.
Across the castle grounds, Auriella stormed towards them, her cloak billowing out behind her. Tybolt crossed to meet her.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” Auriella said tightly.
She clearly wasn’t fine. Before he could push the issue, Terric strolled to the front of the line, shouting orders for the parade route. Four Hunters would flank Aja’s cage—Kelton, Asher, Tybolt, and Auriella. Tybolt took his place and stepped behind Auriella.
The street performers, a ragtag group of actors and acrobats dressed in rags, would open the parade. They were pressed against the gate, watching with wide eyes as the rest of the wizards were removed from the Hold and put into place. A few of the lesser wizards were chained together to walk behind the street performers, and the young Hunters escorted them to the front of the line. That was where Tybolt had walked his first year in the parade. He missed that position—the children always ooed and ahhed over the jugglers. The parade grew in excitement from there: fire eaters, acrobats, and wizards of increasing notoriety. Aja was last.
The gates opened and the juggling balls went up as the performers started out the parade. Tybolt heard cheers and laughter followed shortly by “boos” as the first group of wizards came into sight. Soon after that, a group of five wizards trudged out, chained, gagged, and wearing an iron band around their necks. Two chains came off each neck band, held by one Hunter on each side. The crowd hissed at their appearance. The fire-eaters were next, soothing the crowd of their anger but feeding their frenzy.
Next came smaller carts pulled by donkeys that each held a single wizard. The wizards in these cages were the ones who’d slipped their gags and whose lips had been stitched with black twine x’s. The crowd loved them. The hisses and boos were met with jeers and laughter at such horrific mutilation. The parade continued, and Tybolt shifted from one foot to the other while the rest of the groups exited the gate.