I look at Ione, who stares at her plate. I understand the meaning of Dame Aris. I’m surprised into silence. Dame Aris means to ask me if I find the girl under her study attractive and if I would be interested in bedding her. Because they are her friends, Clef and Renate understand as well. They aren’t surprised by the question. They watch me, also expecting an answer. I can’t tell if this casual invitation is a particular custom of the Rescela Empire I’ve simply never encountered, or if this is a particular habit of Dame Aris and her company.
“Dame Ione Galatea is beautiful,” I say to be polite, and because I’m not sure how else I could possibly respond.
Dame Aris sighs like she’s annoyed. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
I look at Ione Galatea to see if her feelings are hurt, and they are—but she’s also used to this treatment. She sits straighter without speaking.
Dame Aris continues. “I’m trying to teach her how to be more alluring to attract men who would be worthy of marriage. She can’t live here at my house for the rest of her years, and she can’t continue to be a burden to her father. I’ve had her practice with my servants.”
Georg looks at me, confused. I can’t meet his eye. I’ve never heard anyone speak so openly about matters of the bedroom before. Roos is more used to the ways of the Rescela people, but she also stares at the food that remains on her plate.
“Danon is the man’s name,” Dame Aris continues. “He’s handsome enough. Anyone would be happy to invite him into their bed. But Ione acts as though I torture her.”
Dame Aris is obviously amused by this. Clef and Renate seem to think this is amusing as well. They bend their heads together, hands grazing on top of the table without shame. Georg is transfixed. He can’t look away. I have to admit, it’s difficult to ignore. It’s rare to see such open affection.
Dame Aris notices me watching her friends. “And what about you, Løren?” she asks. “Do you have a bedmate?”
“I don’t.”
Georg hides his judgment, but he thinks for a brief moment that I lie. He believes Sigourney Rose is my bedmate. I want to correct him, but I can’t without admitting to him that I’ve read his thoughts and revealing to everyone in the room that I have kraft. Though none have been as hostile as the Fjern, I’m not sure if this would change if any were to learn the truth of my kraft. Dame Aris could be like Malthe: accommodating until she learns she’s no longer the most powerful person in the room.
“I suppose it’s difficult to find love in war,” Dame Aris says. “But here, you’re away from the battles. You could enjoy the simple pleasures. Ione still has much to learn, but if you find her acceptable—”
“No,” I say. Others at the table look at me with surprise with the suddenness of my response. “Thank you.”
Ione is offended, but she tries not to show it. Dame Aris watches me for one long moment, and I begin to fear that she’ll decide to insist and use her kraft to make both me and Ione share a bed. I would have to use my kraft then—force her to stop her power of persuasion and reveal the power of my own.
But Dame Aris only gives a shrug. “Perhaps Danon would be more to your taste.”
She means this to be polite and hospitable, but the words only turn my stomach, the food sour on my tongue. Without Danon here in the room, I can’t see if he truly does this work by his own desires, or if this is work commanded of him by his mistress and her kraft. Perhaps there’s a type of slavery here in the Rescela Empire as well, even if it’s by a different name.
“Dame Aris,” I say, “we’re tired from our travels. I’m sorry to be rude, but would it be all right if we retired for the night?”
“Oh, of course,” she says, though I can feel her disappointment. I realize that she saw us as her entertainment for the evening, as three exotic islanders with our strange ways. She stands and calls for the pale-skinned servant named Danon, asking him to take us to our chambers. Danon ignores us as he walks. He sees himself above us. He thinks that we’re only slaves, while he’s at least paid coin for his troubles.
We’re shown to separate rooms. They’re all as extravagant as the rest of the house. This is a wealth none of us have ever experienced. Beds like these, baths, and soft clothes laid out for us by servants—this is something a kongelig might expect, but never a slave. I feel guilty accepting any of this when my people are still suffering. There isn’t any sense in living like this, pretending that I’m a king in a foreign land. But refusing the comforts wouldn’t help anyone in the revolution either, and it might also insult Dame Aris, who takes pride in being a gracious host.
Roos is shown to a room, then Georg. He’s so exhausted that he falls into the bed without bothering to wash or change before Danon closes the door. He takes me to the last room in the hall and leaves without another word.
My body aches and begs for the softness of the bed, but I force myself to wash first, sinking into a tub of warm water that stings the cuts that line my skin. The scars on my back from the whip twinge. My muscles scream. But as I sit in the warm water, everything relaxes. I close my eyes. I wonder about the islands—how those on Nørup Helle are faring, if Anke feels at home on Årud Helle with Voshell. I think about the others: Marieke, Kjerstin, Geir, and Malthe. I wonder if Malthe has already overtaken Hans Lollik Helle and if the others are safe. Marieke didn’t hide her support for me. I worry that Malthe could punish her for this—find any excuse to have her whipped or killed.
I also wonder how the others will react to the news that Olina is dead. Disappointment, yes, and grief to be sure. They’ll be angry with me and Georg, for allowing it to happen in the first place. I wouldn’t blame them. I hold that same anger for myself. I should have done more to protect Olina.
I can hear the door opening in the main bedroom. I immediately stand from the bath. My body is tense, expecting an attack. My kraft can sense that it’s only Dame Aris, but I feel ready to fight. Surprise is what calms me when she walks from my bedroom and into the bathroom without hesitation. She sees me where I stand, naked. I sink back into the water, embarrassed, but she only crosses her arms and continues to stare. She isn’t ashamed to say what she wants and expects from me. Shame flourishes in me, and there’s also a curdling of fear. I close my eyes and see the bedroom of Patrika Årud. Even dead she follows me. Dame Aris notices my silence and my discomfort.
“I forget that people not of the Rescela Empire have such peculiar views on bodies,” she says. “There’s so much shame. Get dressed. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
She leaves me to dry. A clean shirt and pants were left by Danon, folded on a shelf near the bath. When I emerge, Dame Aris sits on one of a pair of chairs. A table with wine sits between. She’d considered making herself comfortable on the bed as she normally would but thought better of it. I’m grateful for that.
“Olina told me something I found interesting,” Dame Aris says once I’ve sat. “She mentioned that there’s kraft in the islanders of Hans Lollik. The Fjern would hunt each of you down rather than rejoicing in your abilities.”
She pauses. I understand her true question. Olina must have forgotten how she had once described how the leader of the islanders had kraft. She’d hoped this would entice Dame Aris into helping us, persuade the woman that we were a blessed group deserving of support. Olina never expected that I would have to come here to the northern empires, or she wouldn’t have so easily put something onto paper. And Dame Aris watches me, wondering if I am the leader Olina had spoken of and, if so, what sort of power I possess.
“Do you have the blessed ability?” Dame Aris asks.
Dame Aris has kraft as well, but she could still easily have me sent to the temples to worship her gods while keeping her own freedom. Still, I’ve never been able to lie. “Yes. I do.”
“Tell me of your power.”
I tell her. She’s in awe. Dame Aris has always been intrigued by the kraft of others. She has an ability herself, she admits. “Being able to persuade anyone to do
anything of my choosing has been truly useful.”
I don’t respond to this. The threat between us lingers in the air.
“You must be eager to discuss the state of the islands of Hans Lollik,” she tells me. “I wanted to respect Olina’s memory and speak with you on the topic. Fighting the Fjern was something she’d worked most passionately for.”
I’m still shaken by the memory of Patrika Årud and of feeling like a scared child again, but this is too important an opportunity to miss. “Thank you,” I say. “It must be inconvenient, to host us as guests and listen to our requests.”
“It’s fine,” she says. “I did welcome you into my house, after all. I could have simply turned you away if I did not want to be your host. Tell me. What is it that you need?”
“Olina must have told you of our need for resources.”
“Yes, she’d mentioned it,” Dame Aris says. The way she says this almost suggests to me that Olina’s messages hadn’t been written with any urgency. I know that they were. This is only more of Dame Aris’s games.
“We need guards,” I tell her. “Supplies. Weapons, food. Without guards and supplies, the war is already lost. Olina believed that you would be willing to help us. I hope that she was right.”
“She was right,” Dame Aris says. “I do want to help. Still, this is quite a financial burden, and you must understand that the royals of Rescela won’t be too pleased with me poking into the affairs of the Koninkrijk Empire.” She pauses. “What will you offer me in turn?”
Her meaning is clear. I understand what she wants and what she expects. She thinks it will be an easy exchange: my body for only a night, for help to win our freedom from the Fjern. It might be an easy choice for others. I can feel the pressure to sacrifice myself, no matter the discomfort and disgust, no matter the rage of having my body used in the way it has been used, again and again. Sacrifice myself, for all my people and all our islands.
Dame Aris believes the choice is so easy she doesn’t wait for my response. She puts a hand on my leg. It feels like my skin begins to rot beneath her fingertips. She’s surprised when I take her hand and remove it. She’s more surprised when I tell her no.
“I’m not interested in exchanging my body for your help.”
There’s a heavy pause where she processes my words. “Even for the sake of the rebellion?” she asks. “You said you would lose without my assistance.”
“We might.”
“Then this is a foolish choice,” she says. “And selfish. So many depend on you, and all you must do is pleasure me for one night.”
She doesn’t see the similarities between her actions and those of Patrika Årud’s, or any of the other masters on Hans Lollik Helle that took me into their rooms and into their beds. She doesn’t understand the disgust that spills from me—the hatred to the point where I consider for a moment wrapping my hands around her neck.
Dame Nage Aris shakes her head, surprised. Her anger is abrupt. She’s embarrassed. Enraged, that she’s been rejected, and by someone of such a lower class as me. The Rescela Empire might not have slaves, but their society has found its ways to oppress others. I have no wealth, no status. I should be grateful, like Olina was, that Dame Aris is entertaining me. That she’d bother to have empathy for me and my people. Instead, I reject her. Such an insult cannot stand. Thoughts of possible retaliation flurries through her. She could have me captured along with Georg and Roos. She could deliver us to the Koninkrijk Empire so that we will be executed. Delivering the leader of the slave uprising is one way she could gain respect from the Koninkrijk Empire and influence among her peers. And she thinks about her kraft. She considers saying the words that would persuade me to join her in my bed so that she can use me and my body however she wishes. She decides that this is what she will do.
She opens her mouth and I feel myself pulling the words from her tongue. They strangle her, trapped in her throat. I draw her kraft from her blood and she feels herself weakening, eyes widening. The power stirs through me. I could say the words. I could tell her that she will help us. She’ll send the guards of her allies and her resources to the islands to help us kill the Fjern and fight for our freedom. But the longer she sits, powerless, the more the need to speak falls inside of me. I can’t take control of another person in the way that they would to me. I know the feeling of not holding control. I can’t cause that same pain for another.
I release her. She gasps, breathing hard. I worry that her anger will only grow. That she’ll call for Danon, or demand that I leave her house. But she only stands and leaves the room without another word.
Several hours pass. I sit and try to think of next steps, worried that she’ll attack, but none comes. I call on Georg and Roos early before the sun rises. I don’t explain to them what’d happened—only that we need to leave immediately and return to the islands of Hans Lollik. Before we can reach the front doors, I hear a voice behind us.
“I’ve sent a messenger,” Dame Aris tells us without greeting. “A request to several families for the aid and borrowing of their well-trained guards. These are families who have owed me favors for some time, I might add. I expect nearly five hundred guards to be sent to the islands to fight the Fjern on your behalf.”
I’m not sure what to say. Georg is overjoyed, but I worry that she lies out of cruelty in punishment for the previous night. But I can see that she’s being honest. She steps forward, uncrossing her arms.
“I also have access to supplies. Dried meats and fruits will be sent from the coast by morning’s end. They’ve been ordered to stop at each of the islands under your control before reaching Hans Lollik Helle. Hopefully they won’t be overtaken by the Fjern.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, Dame Aris,” I say.
She waves her hand impatiently. “It’s only the right thing to do. Perhaps you could leave with the shipment of supplies. They’ve been ordered to move quickly. You could return to Hans Lollik Helle within days.”
We accept her offer. Polite society would expect a longer display of thanks, but Georg and I are desperate to return to the islands, and Roos has already decided she would join us on the journey and help us however she can in Olina’s memory. The guards help to retrieve our horses, and the lady takes the opportunity to speak with me alone and apologize for her behavior the night before.
“Too much wine,” she says simply.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We return to sea. I’d spent so much of my life trying to escape these islands so that I could feel freedom. I can see now what I couldn’t see then: I wouldn’t have been free if I had made it to the northern empires. None of the islanders who live in the north are free, either. No matter where we are, we can’t be free when the Fjern are still in our islands and when our people are still enslaved and tortured, beaten, killed. That isn’t true freedom.
Georg stands beside me on the deck. He’s glad to be returning to the islands, even if it’s to war and possible death. The north was too overwhelming. He leans against the railings. This ship is much bigger than the one we’d taken with Olina. We have fresh water and food and herbs that Roos says will fight any illness we might have on the trip back. This only makes me think how we failed Olina. She should be standing alongside her friend Roos. She’d devoted her life to our freedom. It seems particularly cruel that she won’t be able to see it to the end.
“There’s no use in getting stuck in the past,” Georg tells me. He has no kraft, but he can sense my melancholy and guess its source. “We can’t be distracted by it.”
“No,” I tell him, “but we can be motivated by it.”
I don’t eat dinner. The rocking of the waves and the heavy salt in the air takes away my appetite, and besides that, the less I eat means the more food there is for the people in the islands who need it. The multiple ships given to us by Dame Aris, manned by her guards, will stop at each of the islands to give supplies, while more still will travel with me to the royal island for our plans to attack. The
ships are faster than even the boat we’d used to travel north, and we move quickly, giving the villagers of Ludjivik Helle its share of supplies before passing to Nørup Helle. The people are still antagonistic after the killing of Zeger, but they’re more receptive when they see the food we offer. More guards agree to fight for our cause, and Roos stays behind to overlook the distribution of supplies. She accepts my gratitude. Without Roos’s help in the northern empires, we would’ve been lost and out of options.
The last of the ships and her guards goes to Årud Helle, where I also stop to check on Anke. She’s thinner, tired—all of the villagers are—but she tries to put on a show of good spirits for me. Voshell explains that there was another attack that the islanders managed to fight just days ago, but not before the Fjern burned their groves and half of the houses they had rebuilt. I want to say with confidence that everything will be fine, especially with the assistance of Dame Aris, but this isn’t something that I can promise.
“If things don’t go as planned,” I tell Voshell, “the ships will have to return to Dame Aris, if they survive the battles. I’ll ask that they allow you to journey north with them.”
Voshell is solemn when she agrees. Georg and I board the ship for our final stop to Hans Lollik Helle, staring at the island fading in the distance. So much has happened after leaving Hans Lollik Helle that it’s almost easy to forget why I’d left. Malthe attempted to kill me, tried to take control of the island. Just as much has happened on my journey to the empires, I’m sure that much has happened on Hans Lollik Helle. The time away could have given Malthe a moment to breathe and think clearly—to realize that he’d made a mistake. The time away could have also given Malthe the moment he’d needed to take control of the guards, to kill anyone he saw as my ally. Marieke, Kjerstin, Geir—any or all of them could already be dead.
Georg leaves for the bunks belowdecks, but I can’t sleep. I stand where I have all day, thinking of how I would stand on the rocks by the bay. The breeze has slowed tonight, and the surface is still, like glass, almost as unmoving as the sea from my dreams and my nightmares.
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