Glissanda

by Sara Kingsley

  I glare at him, not even justifying that ridiculous thought with a reply.

  “What?”

  I snort. “You can’t be serious. Imogen is a woman, she’s my leader, my commander. I can’t think of anyone more capable at leading our company into the Bastion and keeping me safe too. I can’t think of a man more ruthless. Besides, Tui, how can I possibly ask these people—men and women—to put themselves into danger and not do the same myself? How?”

  A long pause. Tui leans the staff against the log and folds his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know. I’m being ridiculous.”

  “You read my mind, there.”

  “Just worried about you, Raven, that’s all.”

  “I know.” I put an arm around Tui and pull my old friend in close, leaning my head on his wide shoulder. “This will all be over. Tomorrow. I’ll send out a search party for our family once … I have control over the Palace.”

  Gods, just saying the words makes everything seem so real. This is really happening.

  Tui leans away, just a few inches, and I look back up into his face. He’s grinning widely. “You’re really going to do it. You’re going to take the throne of Nadir. My old treevillager friend from Baldachin. My fishing partner, my sleeping-in-the-grass buddy. When did this happen?”

  I grin back at him. “Tomorrow. Can’t count our chickens, can we?”

  He ruffles my hair, still loose down my back and shoulders. “I can.”

  “Can what?” Catriona’s suddenly standing in front of us, having arrived as soundlessly as ever.

  “Can give you that.” I nod in the direction of the staff next to Tui.

  A corner of his mouth turns up. He grabs the staff and stands, holding it out to Catriona.

  “You’ll need this tomorrow. When we”—he glances back to me with one brow raised—“take the Palace.”

  Her freckled cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “Thanks, Tui,” she says, accepting the gift. “You’re going to have to teach me how to use it though.”

  Tui slaps his thighs. “That I can do!” He turns and gives me a small wink, clearly grateful for me saving him from the hole he must have dug himself into earlier.

  As I watch them go, I do a quick mental calculation: thirty-six hours to go until we descend on the Bastion.

  There’s a lot to do.

  The next day, the energy in the camp only continues to grow, in the hours we’ve been preparing to go into the Bastion. Not all of the men knew how to fight; while those from the Bastion could certainly throw a fist or a knife, many of them were farmers with little experience of wielding anything more deadly than a rabbit trap. It turned out having the extra time for training was a good thing.

  The women put on a veritable feast, on this, the evening before we head in. I’m sure nobody had any sort of appetite—I sure didn’t—but we managed to put the food in regardless. There’s no telling when our next meal might be.

  As I watch Imogen sorting us all into groups—we’ll enter the Bastion from all sides—I’m filled, once again, with gratefulness to have her as my leader. She can’t have any experience with this sort of thing, but her skill and astuteness are apparent. She’s respectful of the men and their various skills. They, in turn, listen to her with honor and do as she says.

  I can’t help but think that she’ll make an excellent head counselor when I’m King of Nadir. I hope she’ll accept the post.

  But then I strike that thought—I’m getting way ahead of myself.

  Imogen comes over to check in with me. “Are you sure you’re all right going in with the northern group? I’ll be with them as well. Leif and Tui too.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I say, smiling at her. “What about Catriona?”

  “She’s going with the western group, since that gate is the most heavily guarded. She thinks she can distract them so ours can get by.”

  I don’t doubt she’ll be able to do just that, but Tui’s not going to like her going off on her own. Well, he should be able to deal with that by now …

  “Wait! I nearly forgot …” Imogen darts off. She’s gone for only a few seconds, then returns holding my pack. I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about it.

  I untie the flap, and pull out my crown of Woman Kings.

  “Here, let me help.” Smiling, Imogen settles the crown on my head. She stands back to examine it, then steps forward to make another adjustment. “There, you’ve got the crown and will soon take the throne too. It will be a glorious day in Nadir.”

  I can’t help the small thrill that passes through my chest. I always thought Leif was being fanciful, thinking I’d actually take the throne one day. But that day is really, truly here. I’m nowhere near ready, but is anyone? Dominic surely isn’t.

  “Are you ready?” Leif’s voice. I startle as his question echoes my own thoughts, then look up to find him smiling down at me.

  I pull the blue-green cloth from my pack and wrap it around my shoulders. “Nearly.”

  “Allow me.” Leif holds his hand out; something’s glinting in his palm. I look closer and see it’s a beautiful silver pin, in the shape of a bird in flight. I touch it with one finger; it’s warm from being enveloped in his hand.

  “Where did you get this? It’s stunning.”

  “It was my mother’s. I found it when we were at our home in West Market last. I can’t believe the looters didn’t find it. A relief too—I’ve been wanting to give it to you.”

  I don’t know what to say; I’m quite touched by his gift. He doesn’t talk about his mother much, not having known her as she’d died when he was a baby.

  He busies himself fastening the edges of the cloth securely with the pin. It feels like it takes him a long time to adjust it how he likes. Finally, he brushes some lint off my shoulders.

  “There. You’re definitely ready now.”

  A horn blows in the center of camp. The men give their wives one final caress—many of the women are staying behind to watch over the children.

  But suddenly, out of the crowd of armed Treasoners, dozens of women emerge, also armed with bows, knives, and spears. I find myself surrounded by them, surprised to see so many coming with me.

  Then again, maybe I’m not surprised at all. They’ve got just as much at stake as anyone. Maybe even more.

  I remember their faces that day, ravaged with tears, just like mine, that day our beautiful and kind Queen Seraphine was executed.

  Maybe they want revenge, for old Araroa killing our Queen, as much as I do. And when the battle cry goes up in their beautiful, crisp voices—a glissando into the night, one that sends a shiver down my spine—I am sure of it.

  We go into the night silently, together. When the Bastion is in view, we split up into our assigned groups, many of the women continuing with me to the northern gate. I catch a glimpse of Tui kissing Catriona goodbye, and then I’m carried off with the others.

  As we make our way north, through the surrounding forest, none of us speaks, but I can feel the group humming with excitement. Imogen leads us, Leif is by my side, and I know Tui isn’t far behind.

  This is it.

  It’s time.

  Tonight I will take the Palace. We will take the Palace back.

  As we approach the northern gates, it appears to be left unguarded. We wait, still in the trees, while Imogen investigates.

  She returns into view a few moments later, waving us closer. “There’s no one here,” she reports. “What’s more, the gates aren’t even locked.”

  I walk over to look for myself. Sure enough, the lock is hanging open, the gate swinging freely on its hinges.

  “I’m not sure I like the looks of this,” Imogen says, peering around as if a Loyalist were about to jump out at us at any moment.

  But there’s something tied to an iron bar, near the lock. I pull it off and hold it up to show Imogen. “Somebody left a message for us. Look—it’s a piece of blue wool, the same as the Queen used to wear. The servants loyal to her still
wear this color.”

  Imogen peers at it, just for an instant. She raises her brows, surprised. “You’re right. Let’s continue in, then.”

  We file through the gates and make our way down the streets lit only by a few dim street lamps and the rising moon.

  None of us dares to speak; we don’t want any chance of a Loyalist or Hunter being alerted to our presence. We want to take them by complete surprise.

  We pass through the empty market streets. It’s nearly midnight and all the windows we pass are dark. In years past, stall keepers would be waking up in only a few hours, setting out their wares. But with so many exiled from the Bastion and the King limiting trade over the past year, there’s been little available to sell. I’m looking forward to seeing the market bustling again.

  We see no one as we walk. At first I’m relieved to avoid any confrontation so far, but my past experience soon seeps in and I know it’s anything but a good sign.

  We’re nearly to the central square, nearly to the Palace where we’ll meet up with the others. We’ll surprise any Loyalists still there at this late hour; we’ll move past them and storm up the Palace steps. The guards will be forced to step aside and we’ll be in. We’ll take the little Prince from his cushy little bed and toss him out. I’ll find where he’s been holding Fortissima and once again she’ll be mine.

  The Palace will be mine.

  The Kingdom of Nadir will be mine.

  But my unease has only grown as we move through the dark, empty streets. Something doesn’t seem right. Only I have no idea what it is.

  Suddenly there’s a figure running toward us. I can’t make out who it is. Together, Imogen and I draw our swords and wield them before us. Our fellow Treasoners crowd behind; I hear them brandishing their own weapons. I don’t even need to look to know Leif and Tui are right behind me.

  The figure draws closer. Now I can see the bouncing curls, lit by moonlight. It’s Catriona.

  I slide my sword back in its sheath, Imogen following suit.

  Catriona stops before us, panting. She puts her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  “What’s happened? Is everyone all ri—” But before I can finish my question, there’s a loud blast of trumpets. I know immediately they are coming directly from the Palace.

  “Oh no. Oh gods no …” Before I even think, I’m running.

  Voices are behind me, yelling at me to stop.

  I don’t listen to them.

  Moments later, I’m standing in one of the arched entranceways to the square. Lanterns are brightly lit, it’s like daylight. The entire place is filled with Loyalists, Hunters too. They are cheering with such joy and jubilation that I know something terrible has happened.

  And then I watch as he steps forward, onto the Palace balcony, where my father, the old King of Nadir, loved to stand, looking down at all his subjects: my brother, the Prince of Nadir.

  Only, he’s wearing the King’s crown, holding the King’s staff. He’s wearing—and looking quite absurd really—Araroa’s violet robe trimmed with feathers.

  Then I understand, and my heart leaps into my throat: I am looking at the King of Nadir.

  We are too late. I am too late. Again.

  “NO!” I scream out, pushing my way through the thronging Loyalists. I sense the other Treasoners close in around me as I make my way to the Palace steps.

  Dominic’s face breaks into a grin—a mocking one—when he sees me emerge from the crowd.

  “Ah! So glad to see you’ve joined our celebration, dear sister, our Princess Araroa! Don’t look so grim. ’Tis a happy night! The official swearing in has just been completed—I’ve officially taken the throne of Nadir. Our kingdom is no longer ruler-less. Please, feel free to partake of the feasts in a short while. No need to sleep, there are days of celebrating ahead!” Someone hands him a vessel and he takes a long sip. Apple juice, I’m sure.

  “You little bastard!” I cry out. “What have you done? I’m the next in line and you know it!”

  “Ah, but that’s where you are confused, dear sister. You are the bastard. I’ll allow you to celebrate with us, but after that, I never wish to see you again. I’ll follow through on Father’s orders: You are guilty of treason and if you don’t leave Nadir at once, I’ll have you executed. Go back to your little kingdom—Nuimana. If you don’t, I’ll be ordering my war ships to take the island back.”

  “You have no right!”

  “That’s where you are mistaken, Raven. I have every right. Now. Let’s not upset the celebratory mood, shall we?”

  A voice in the crowd shouts: “Long live King Dominic Araroa!” and the crowd erupts with wild cheers. The newly crowned King throws his skinny arms in the air in response.

  I’m gritting my teeth so hard my jaw hurts.

  I can’t seem to will my feet to move. But someone is tugging at my arm. It’s Leif.

  “C’mon, Raven. Let’s get out of here before things really get out of hand.”

  I let Leif lead me toward the exit to the square, where Imogen and the other Treasoners are waiting. I’m nearly there when a piece of spittle is hurled at my face. “Get out of here, before we finish the job old Araroa should have … before we kill you ourselves.” His companion spits on my boots.

  Tears are threatening and I must use every ounce of my will to keep them back. The last thing I could possibly want is to cry in front of these people.

  Leif is tugging me away, pleading for me to keep on. But I wrench my arm from his hold, and look up, right into the man’s face.

  “You’ve got what you wanted, now I’ll tell you what I want: nothing less than peace and prosperity for you and your family. Go home. You’ve won.”

  I spin on my heel, leaving the man’s mouth hanging open.

  There’s nothing to do other than return to the Treasoner’s camp in the woods, outside of the Bastion. As if I’d stay to help the Prince celebrate what’s surely his illegal victory.

  Our company walks in silence. Several people pat me on the back, to try to console me. But I’m not the only one who needs consoling. We all do.

  I can’t decide whether I am more furious … or heartbroken to have let so many people down.

  We failed.

  No—I failed, before I’d even had a chance to fight for the throne. We had days left before the Prince would be sworn in. Or so I thought.

  When we arrive back, it’s Catriona I seek to speak with first.

  “What happened? What did you hear? How did he get sworn in?”

  “Hold on! Here, take a sip of this first, then I’ll fill you in.” She holds a small silver flask out to me, and I take it without hesitation. The liquid burns on the way down—it’s awful, nothing like Niles’s spirits. But it steadies my shaking hands just enough. I hand it back to her.

  “Do you want to keep it?”

  I shake my head. “No, I need to keep my wits about me. But thanks, I needed that.”

  She slips the flask back into a pocket. “Okay, here’s what I overheard. A special council was called earlier today. They were informed that Nadir was—is—on the brink of civil war and as such, was in peril due to not having a ruler on the throne. They voted to bypass the mourning stipulation and crown the Prince immediately.”

  “Can they really do that?”

  Catriona shrugs. “Beats me, I don’t know anything about Nadir law, or Di-Diatri—whatever it’s called …”

  “Diuturnal.”

  “What’s that again?”

  “Diuturnal Law. It’s the founding law of our kingdom, thousands of years old. The old laws, the original laws of Nadir. The ones the Woman Kings followed. But of course, the most recent Kings have chosen not to follow it, some of it, at least. Case in point: King Dominic.” Just saying the title and name aloud sends bile up my throat. “Can I have that flask one more time, please?”

  A corner of her mouth quirks up. “Sure thing.”

  I take another tiny sip. But I still don’t feel any better
. Just more sick, really.

  “What does this Di—u—turnal law say about what just happened? Is this even legal?” Catriona asks.

  But I don’t have an answer for her. “I’ve no idea. The law’s written down, somewhere, but I’ve certainly never seen it.

  “Well, when you find it”—she pops the top of the flask open one more time—“you’ll have the proof you need that the Prince has taken the throne illegally.”

  Tui appears out of the darkness behind her, snatches the flask from her hand. “Hey! What are you do—” But before she can finish, he’s dragging her off toward the tents, both of their laughter echoing into the trees.

  The fire’s been stoked for a late tea, but I stay where I am, standing in the shadows. The mood in the camp is nothing like that at the Bastion right now. Most people have gone straight to bed. Everyone still up is moving about quietly, with what seems like much effort.

  I’m still not sure how it would have gone, if we’d stormed into that Palace like we’d planned. Maybe the Loyalists would have overtaken us, after all. Maybe we’d be in the dungeon, or worse.

  Maybe this is all for the best.

  But I still have no idea what to tell everyone tomorrow. Will we keep fighting? Shall I attempt, again, a truce with the Prince—I’ve got to stop calling him that—the King? Shall I tell everyone to find a new place to settle and return by myself to Nuimana? But, my family …

  “M’lady, you should get some rest. We can decide in the morning … what’s next.” Imogen’s appeared next to me; she touches my arm gently.

  “Have you seen Leif?”

  “I have. You might want to let him be for a while. He’s quite furious. In a sort of rage, really.”

  I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. I open my mouth to tell her that there’s little point in being furious about this. We should have gone in yesterday, as Imogen’d wanted to do. If we had, I’d probably be sleeping in my Palace chambers tonight, and the others back in their Bastion homes. I failed everyone, that’s all there is to it.

  But Imogen didn’t speak those words, and I can’t either, not when there’s still a chance, tiny as it may be. “He shouldn’t be too angry. This isn’t over.”