Glissanda

by Sara Kingsley

  “Ow! Lovely evening to you too!” But he says this with a smile, as he rubs his chin.

  “Shhh … someone’s here,” Imogen whispers.

  Leif and I both freeze, listening.

  Imogen opens the small window in the stall door, just a crack. “Who is it?” Through the opening, I glimpse the blue of the boy’s robe.

  “I have some food for you. And a visitor,” he replies.

  Tui jumps up suddenly, grinning, and throws the stall door wide open. Catriona leaps into his arms and throws hers around his neck. A growl emanates from deep in Tui’s throat. He grabs the back of her head, and kisses her hungrily.

  “Oh, Cat, it’s good to see you,” he says, then buries his face in the crook of her neck, her curls falling around his face. She places her hands on either side of his head, bringing it back up, and kisses him again. Together they fall onto a pile of hay, completely absorbed in each other.

  Imogen clears her throat, accepting the basket of food from the hooded boy. She thanks him, and closes the stall door again.

  “Sorry. Not sorry, actually.” Tui grins up at Imogen, then turns his attention back to Catriona.

  Leif nudges me with his shoulder, then plants a kiss on my neck too. “Nice try”—I kiss his nose in return—“but something in that basket smells really good.”

  “Gods, you’re right.”

  We peel ourselves from our nest of hay and inspect the rather large basket which Imogen’s placed on the floor. She pulls bundle after bundle out, all steaming hot, and we find each is full of freshly roasted meat and vegetables. There’s also a huge loaf of bread, hot from the Palace oven, a crock of butter, and, to Leif and Tui’s delight, a bottle of ale and several mugs.

  My mouth is watering, and we all dig in, even Tui and Catriona.

  While we eat, we fill Catriona in with what’s happened over the past few hours. When I tell her that Araroa now has Fortissima, she simply shrugs, then holds out the chicken leg she’s been gnawing on.

  “You do realize you have more than a few friends in the Palace, don’t you, Raven?”

  “Either that, or we’re being poisoned right now.” I take another bite of the soft, white bread. I can’t help but notice Imogen’s eyes flick toward me, just for an instant.

  “We’ll get your sword back. Don’t you worry one bit,” Catriona says.

  “How?”

  “No idea. But listen, I’ve got some good news for you, at least.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “This place might look like it’s swarming with Loyalists, but they’re going to be vastly outnumbered, if they’re not already. A huge group of Treasoners have returned, Raven, most of them camped right outside the Bastion. A few have even snuck inside. They’re refusing to leave the Bastion again. Determined not to let Araroa or his Loyalists scare them off. Besides, they know none of those bastards will last long.”

  My heart leaps in my chest. A feeling blooms inside, one of elation, that King Araroa will die. That this will all be over, and soon.

  But then I remember what the hooded boy said, that Dominic must not be made King … but I simply don’t see how it could be me. Not yet. If that were to happen, it would only mean further unrest in the Bastion, not to mention elsewhere in Nadir.

  “Look, I’m sorry, all of you”—I glance at each of the eager faces gathered around me—“but Prince Dominic will take the throne. I just don’t think the kingdom is ready for another Woman King. Not yet, anyway. For me to try to usurp the throne from the Prince—now—would incite civil war. It’s clear to me that’s what the Loyalists are gearing up for. They’re here to protect the Prince. Even if I were somehow to take the throne, they’d never let it rest. My life would be in danger each and every second of every day. I’d never even be able to go out in public. What good would that serve?”

  No one argues. I look at Leif, sitting next to me, his face drawn with disappointment. But I can tell he knows I’m speaking the truth.

  Imogen doesn’t even argue.

  I continue: “My only real option is to work with the Prince. Perhaps I can convince him to let me be one of his counselors. The Loyalists can go home, the Treasoners can return. All will be well.” But my words aren’t really even convincing me.

  “And what if the Treasoners don’t accept Dominic as their ruler? What then, Raven?”

  Imogen’s eyes are burning into my face. I don’t break my gaze away, but lean closer to her.

  “They simply must. For their own good. I’ve sworn to be their leader, and I will continue to do so until the day I die.”

  Imogen allows a small smile to creep across her lips. “Good.” She takes a long swig of ale, wipes her face with her sleeve, then stands.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “I’m going to find these Treasoners Catriona speaks of.”

  “You don’t think … ?”

  Imogen snorts, straightening her sword belt.

  “Oh, no. Nile wouldn’t have!”

  But Leif’s mouth curls into a grin. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Raven, the man simply can’t be contained.”

  “If Nile’s not stayed safe in the forest, like I’d ordered him to … if he’s brought others back with him … I’m going to … argh!” I stand up and storm back and forth across the stall a couple of times—to little effect, as it’s not very big, and crowded to boot. But I’ve got to do something to keep from shouting out what I’m really feeling; it’s Leif’s father we’re talking about, after all.

  I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I hope, for Nile’s sake, that he’s still where I told him to stay. But if you do find him, I want to see him immediately.”

  “I’ll do that, m’lady. I’ll see you soon, either way, with good news, hopefully.”

  “Be careful, Imogen.”

  “I will.” She opens the stall door and slips through, closing it soundlessly behind her.

  “You know it’s Papa who’s returned,” Leif says, a corner of his mouth twitching up.

  “Don’t I ever.” I finish my mug of ale in several long gulps, then toss it back into the empty basket. We’ve finished every last crumb and drop.

  Callum adjusts himself in the blanket that’s wrapped around him, groaning quietly. Imogen had checked him over earlier and found nothing broken, at least. Just a lot of bruises.

  “I’m really sorry about your sword, Raven. I should never have let them—”

  “No, Callum. It was my idea. I’m sorry I put you in that situation to begin with.”

  He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again.

  “What is it?” I say. “Go on.”

  “I was just wondering … if maybe … we could see if Hannah and her family might let me stay with them for a while? Would that be okay?”

  My stomach lurches a little at hearing Hannah’s name—again—but I truly think it’s a fine idea.

  “It’s nearly dark—are you ready to go?” I pull on my leather jacket, and set about gathering my things. I stuff the woolen shawl back in my pack, where my crown is still tucked safely inside.

  Callum nods eagerly.

  “All right, we’ll take you then. Probably shouldn’t be hanging out this close to the Palace as it is. You coming, Leif?”

  Leif places a hand firmly on my shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of otherwise, m’lady.”

  “What about you two?”

  Catriona and Tui are tangled up in the corner again, immersed in each other. “Tui?”

  He pulls his attention from Catriona reluctantly. “What was that, Raven?”

  I purse my lips. “Are you coming with us? To take Callum to Hannah’s?”

  Tui looks at Catriona, one brow raised in question. A corner of her mouth turns up in response.

  “Naw, I think we’ll stay here and … rest.”

  I can’t help smirking at him. He simply shrugs, then goes back to nuzzling Catriona’s neck.

  Leif and I help Callum up. He’s much steadi
er now, after the food and rest. His face still looks awful, though, and I can’t help but hope Hannah doesn’t mind.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t. As soon as Hannah opens her front door and sees Callum, she grabs him into her arms and takes him inside.

  Leif and I follow them, but we’re not invited to sit.

  “Thank you for bringing Callum back,” Hannah says, brushing her silky chestnut hair back from her face; it’s much shorter now, having had to be cut after her time at the prison camp. But despite her words, her voice is steely, with eyes to match. “I’m not sure what he did to deserve this, but he can rest and heal here, with me.”

  Leif doesn’t say anything, just shifts his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with all this.

  I force a smile, and hope it doesn’t look as fake as it feels. “Thanks, Hannah. I know Callum will be in good hands. His family might have returned. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Oh—sure,” she says, then turns to help Callum down the hallway to a bedroom.

  Leif and I are left standing alone by the front door.

  “Well, I’m ready to go,” I say, reaching for the knob. “Should we check your house in West Market?”

  Leif’s face softens, and he exhales deeply. “Place could probably use a good clean up. Never know what we’ll find in the cellar, to boot.” He winks. I know he isn’t referring to Nile’s illegal spirits normally stored there; those were destroyed in a raid months ago.

  Before we go, I dig the shawl out from my pack and wrap it around me again.

  Even though it’s dark, Leif keeps his hat on, pulled down low over his face. Loyalists are everywhere: they march through the streets with their weapons held in front. Menacing. Unlike the King’s Hunters, which we see very few of, the Loyalists follow no law, no set procedures. There’s no telling what they are capable of, what they’re willing to do to please King Araroa. And now, his son.

  At one point I reach for Fortissima; of course she’s not there. A tiny bud of rage blossoms in my stomach and I clench my fist instead.

  We keep to the shadows. Leif weaves expertly down narrow passageways until we arrive at the alley behind his small home.

  But there’s no way we’re getting inside: two Loyalists are posted at the doorway. Obviously they’ve been tipped off that Treasoners Leif and Nile live here.

  “Where to now?” I whisper.

  “We’re going in,” he replies.

  I look up at him, incredulous. He can’t be serious.

  He winks down at me, wraps his arm tightly around my shoulders. “I’ve an idea, m’lady. Just play along.”

  I raise my brows, but don’t argue; I have to admit I’m eager to see what he’s got planned this time.

  Leif strolls up to the two men; one of them is finishing up a giant yawn, the other lazily scratching his bulbous stomach. “Shift’s over. You can go on and get some supper now.”

  “Who’s that?” One of them points at me with his staff. I try hard not to cringe.

  “Nobody. Just a night lady I picked up.”

  The two men laugh, one of them jabbing Leif in the side with his elbow. “Nice work, son. Don’t get too distracted though. Owner of this place is rumored to be back in town. We’re told he needs to be taken to the commander if he shows up.”

  “Got it. Will do. Enjoy your dinner,” Leif says. His tone indicates he’s more than ready for them to move on.

  “Enjoy your … evening!” More lewd laughter as the two men’s footsteps echo on the cobblestones of the alley as they depart.

  Leif checks the alley one more time, then pulls me inside the back door to his cottage. Once inside, I see it’s in the same condition as the last time I was here: a mess from being ransacked by the King’s Hunters. Worse, it’s been looted since; much of the furniture, books, and kitchen utensils are missing.

  We stand in the main room, looking around at what’s left. Leif kicks a dirty cushion and it smacks against the wall, causing a picture frame that’s barely hanging there to finish its descent to the floor. There is a loud crash.

  Leif sighs, then goes to check the front door. It’s locked, placed back on its hinges. “That’s interesting,” he says, peering past the curtains at the front windows. Last time we were here, the door was broken, hanging off its hinges.

  His mouth slowly turns into a grin. “I wonder …” I follow him into the kitchen, where he peels the small rug back that covers the cellar door. It’s quite dark now, but there is a dim glow around the edges of the hatch.

  Leif grabs the handle and slowly pulls it up.

  “Leif, m’boy!”

  Nile’s face beams up at us from the spirit cellar. He’s got a broom in hand, busy tidying up the broken glass that’s scattered across the floor. I lean over Leif’s shoulder to check the rest of the cellar. It appears that he’s alone.

  Nile sees my face in return and his eyes go wide. “Oh! Hullo, Raven! How are you, m’lady?”

  Leif scrambles down the ladder and I follow, closing the hatch after me.

  I stand before Nile, my hands on my hips. I’m seething.

  “I thought I told you to stay in the forest with the other Treasoners? What the hell are you doing here?”

  Nile’s grinning face slowly melts into seriousness. “I tried to stop them, I really did, m’lady. But as soon as you left, the camp grew restless. Then we got word that other Treasoner groups—not to mention Loyalists—were continuing to move toward the Bastion and we just couldn’t do it, we couldn’t stay put.” He looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry I disobeyed you.”

  I look over at Leif, who simply shrugs. “Nile, how many came with you? Not everyone … ?”

  “Yes, m’lady. Everyone.” He’s holding back a grin, but his eyes are twinkling.

  I rub my forehead where a sharp throbbing has just begun. “Nile, this is not good. This isn’t what we’d planned!”

  “I know, m’lady. And I’m sorry—I tried to stop them, I really did. But they were determined …” His voice trails off.

  “What? Determined to do what?”

  He looks back up, directly into my face. His eyes are serious now, and there’s something else I haven’t seen in them before: weariness.

  “Determined to go home, Raven. And they are prepared to defend their right to stay here. Loyalists be damned.” He finishes sweeping a small pile of glass into a larger one, then looks at me again. “We’re not leaving again.”

  “Papa,” Leif starts, clearly considering his words carefully. “You promised to do as Raven asked, to keep the Treasoners safe in the forest and wait until orders to move in.”

  I touch Leif’s arm gently. “It’s all right, Leif. Nile—I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” He reaches over and leans the broom against the wall.

  “For thinking it was right to order you and the other Treasoners not to return yet. You’re absolutely correct—I had no right to keep you from your homes.”

  Through his bushy white beard I see a corner of Nile’s mouth turn up; the twinkle’s returned to his eyes. “No, Raven, you had our best interests in your heart. I’ve no doubt us returning like this will be proven to be foolish …”

  “It does complicate things. You’ve heard about old Araroa … ?”

  Nile tilts his head forward, so it’s only inches from mine. “Between you and me? Highly suspect. But certainly not unwelcome.” He leans back again, his face beaming. “Another reason I’m glad to be back”—he clenches onto Leif’s arm firmly—“besides being with my son again. Leif and I have been dreaming of the day that’s nearly here: when you’ll take the throne as Woman King of Nadir.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t seem to get any words out. I just shake my head. Finally I blurt out: “I can’t, Nile. Araroa has my sword, the sword of Woman Kings. Besides, there’s far too many Loyalists around. They’d like to see me dead as it is. And if I were to take the throne? Now? It would be suicide.”

  Nile strokes his
beard, considering. He doesn’t argue.

  Then his face brightens. “Well, at any rate, it’s good to be home.” He pats my arm with his free hand. “And you and Leif are well and safe. The future will unfold as it should.”

  He looks at the shelves of broken bottles, once full of illegal spirits … much of it produced for the Palace, of course. “Well, look at this. They missed one.” He’s peering down at a bottom shelf and reaches his arm in, almost to the wall behind. When his hand emerges again, it’s holding a small bottle with a shimmering gold-leaf label.

  He holds it up, grinning. “This is King Araroa’s special blend of brandy. It takes a decade to age properly. Last one,” he adds, his eyebrows waggling up and down.

  There’s a noise above us, the hatch is opening, we jump. But I breathe a sigh of relief to see it’s only Imogen. She closes the hatch again and scrambles down.

  “Ah! I’m glad you got word I was here, Imogen,” Nile says.

  “I sure did. But oh—what’s that you’ve got?” She points at the bottle Nile’s holding, then her face breaks into a grin. “Let’s crack that puppy open. Araroa won’t be needing that. He’s dead.”

  Chapter 12

  “What do you mean dead?” I’m sure I’ve not heard her clearly.

  Imogen claps her hands together, gleeful. “That’s right. King Araroa passed an hour ago. Good thing you got to say goodbye.”

  The throbbing in my head’s getting more violent.

  “I thought he had at least another week—maybe two? Or could have gotten well … perhaps?”

  “Nope.” Imogen grabs the bottle from Nile’s hand, deftly peels the gold wrapping off the neck, pops the cork out. She hands the bottle to me, grinning. “Congratulations, to our heir apparent, our next Woman King of Nadir. And our soon-to-be Duke Araroa of Nadir.” She nods toward Leif, who’s grinning down at me; he wraps an arm around me, tugs me close, and kisses the top of my head.

  My response is to grab the bottle from her, place the mouth to my lips, and take a good, long slug. The fiery liquid burns my throat; my stomach lights on fire. It feels amazing.

  The throbbing ceases.