by C B Samet
“I’ve missed you!”
I wondered if that was possible, with six children and a bank to manage.
I returned Allis’ warm smile.
“Thank you for coming,” he grinned.
“Captain DeFay tells me there’s a land dispute?”
Several other Callabus men and women approached to listen.
Allis’ expression sobered as he turned and looked over his shoulder, up towards the ranch house. “It began as a land dispute. It’s more complicated now.”
I suppressed the urge to tell him to uncomplicate it for me. I didn’t have time for complicated. In an hour, I was expected to pick up Joshua from the clinic and greet the children, before preparing everyone for dinner. ‘We’re important, too.’ Natalie’s words knifed me—daily.
As I took a deep breath, I reminded myself that I had agreed to help, which meant taking the time to understand the situation and find a solution. “Tell me what’s going on?”
“Yonis Copper is behind on his loan payments.”
“How far behind?”
“Unrecoverable. He’s been getting further into debt every month. Not only to the bank, but to other individuals as well.”
“Why? What changed?”
One of the men, with spiked hair and a short beard, shrugged. “He’s never had much of a work ethic. The ranch was always skirting the edge of financial ruin. Copper seemed to lose any further motivation once he slipped into debt.”
Allis continued, “Several days ago he made a scene at the bank when we discussed foreclosure.”
“A scene?”
“He assaulted several clerks.”
“And the complicated part?”
Allis’ expression turned more troubled. “He stomped out and we presumed he went home after that event. Yesterday, when we approached and knocked on his door with the foreclosure papers, he yelled that he had a knife—and if we tried to enter he’d kill his family and then himself. That’s when we sent for help from the Queen.”
The bearded man added, “He said it loud enough so even his children had to have heard it.”
Allis nodded. “We’ve been camped out here ever since, trying to sort out how to diffuse the situation.”
After I recovered from cringing, the moment it was mentioned that children were involved, I asked, “So, when I separate him from his family, what happens to them?”
“Clarissa and the children can go and stay at her sister’s home.” Another local—a woman—joined the conversation. “Clarissa is an excellent seamstress. She can provide for the children.”
I turned back to Allis. “How many people are in the house?”
“Yonis, his wife, and their two children.”
“Okay. Not too complicated.”
“It’s not?”
“Rescue the family. Capture Copper.” My gaze roamed the pastureland. “I just need ... horseshoes.”
“Horseshoes?”
“Keep everyone here. I’ll be back.”
“But—”
I didn’t hear the rest of his objection as I transported to outside the tack room, a small wooden shed set apart from the main house. When I opened the door and stepped inside, my eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Horseshoes.
I picked up two of them, hanging from a nail on the wall. After exiting the barn, I walked toward the house in plain view. As I stepped onto the porch, I introduced myself to the closed door. “Mr. Copper! My name is Abigail. Can we talk?”
“Talk.” A gruff voice said.
I peered into a window, trying to see into his house. The curtains were drawn and obscuring my view except for a thin sliver. “Can I come inside to talk?” I tried to project my voice back toward the front door, so it wouldn’t be too obvious I was peeking through his window.
Through the sliver in the curtains, I could see the sitting room. A woman and two children sat on the floor. Clarissa appeared distraught and sleep-deprived with disheveled hair, dark circles under her eyes, and her mouth drawn. Despite her obvious anxiety, she was trying to keep the children distracted and entertained with a deck of cards.
Now. Where is Mr. Copper?
“You can talk from out there.”
I moved back in front of the door. “What if you open the door? Then we can at least see each other while we talk.”
“I don’t know you.”
True—and I didn’t really want to talk, which probably made my offer sound insincere. Joshua had treated a few patients with mood disorders over the years, and he’d explained to me how people could have systemic imbalances that heightened their emotional response to situations: Despair in place of sadness, rage in place of frustration or anger. Joshua often referred them to a woman healer he knew—not because he couldn’t help them, but because the process was so time-consuming it would have limited his ability to help those with more immediate needs—like trauma and infection, the cases where his skills excelled.
Perhaps a nicer person would have wanted to talk compassionately and empathetically with Yonis. My prejudice against him had been sealed when I’d heard he’d threatened the well-being of his children. Bluff or not, I wasn’t going to offer kindness to a man like that—which was one of the many reasons I was better suited as a warrior than a healer.
When Yonis cracked the door slightly, I saw part of the face of a haggard man. His blood-shot eyes darted back and forth like a wild animal. His disheveled, wrinkled shirt looked as if it had been worn for a week straight. I wondered if he smelled as bad as he looked.
Time to find out.
I pulled my knee up and then launched my foot into the door, using the full strength of my Warrior Stone. The force sent the man sprawling backward, but didn’t quite topple him. The splintered wooden door now hung by one hinge.
I entered the musky house and took quick appraisal of the layout—entry room, sitting room to my right, kitchen to my left. In front of me towered Copper, a man twice my size, with his beet-red face twisted in anger and a long knife gripped tightly in one hand. He launched himself at me.
I disappeared and reappeared behind him. Yonis’ momentum carried him right through the open doorway, where I’d been standing a moment earlier, and he lurched out onto his porch. He barely stopped himself from falling off the edge. The motion would have been comical, except that his wife and children were watching. My role was to restrain Yonis, not shame him in front of his family.
He stared at me, dumbfounded. In my next move, I appeared beside him and wrenched the knife out of his hand, tossing it aside. When he took a swing at me with his mallet-sized fist, I ducked—at the same time reaching up and hooking one of the horseshoes around his wrist. Using the strength of the Warrior Stone, I squeezed the iron shut, into a closed ring shape, before rolling out of the way of the kick Yonis launched next.
He unleashed a string of curse words, expressing his degree of dissatisfaction with me, and tugged angrily at the horseshoe around his wrist.
I came up from my roll, spun around, and then transported again—this time positioning myself in front of him. I hooked the second horseshoe through the one wrapped around his wrist—and then tightened it around his other hand.
As clever as it was, I instantly realized that my ill-conceived plan required me to be a lot faster—as Yonis cruelly backhanded me with his bound fist.
In the instant I realized his great hand was about to make contact with my face, I transported—but the pain that shot through me told me I hadn’t been fast enough.
As I reappeared, I landed in the dirt right on my butt. The taste of blood filled my mouth, from where a tooth had cut into the inside of my lip.
Yonis released an enraged roar as he fought against his wrist restraints.
I sat on the dirt and moved my sore jaw, feeling it with my fingers. I felt relieved that it wasn’t broken. If I hadn’t transported exactly when I had, I’d be in agonizing pain right now.
Still, I needed to think of a safer way to restrain s
omeone next time, especially if more of these escapades were required of me. I instantly thought of the paralytic venom of the black marsh adder. It was capable of incapacitating its victim, while it still remained conscious and breathing. The Hunju used it as a weapon, administered via carefully-aimed blow darts. I’d acquired such a device in combat, and next time I’d definitely remember to bring it.
Snarling, Yonis came barreling toward me. At the last second, before he could stomp on me, I rolled aside and stuck out one leg.
Yonis tripped, fell, and landed on his face. Blood spewed from his nose, turning the brown dirt red.
In a hurry, I transported back to the front porch and blocked Clarissa and the children from seeing Yonis bleeding in the dirt. They stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and worried, and I struggled for how to apologize. My intention was never to harm him.
Clarissa lunged at me, throwing her arms around my neck. “Thank you!”
She sobbed as she clutched me.
I hugged her back. “You’re going to be okay.”
The other woman approached and took Clarissa into her arms. “C’mon, hun. Let’s get you packed up. We’ll take you to your sister’s house.”
I turned back toward Yonis. He’d been hauled to his feet now, with two men escorting him away from the ranch. I wondered what would become of him. Could he be healed of his mental illness? If not, he would need to be isolated from harming others. Aithos had no prisons. Marrington had one, but it was a long way from his home.
Allis came beside me. “Thank you for that.”
Coco joined us. “Your jaw is swelling.”
“No problem.” I turned to Allis. “I’m sorry to run, but my family is waiting on me.”
“How are we going to get the horseshoes off?”
I frowned. “I have no idea.”
4
“Mama, you’re doing it all wrong.”
I frowned and took down the braid in Natalie’s light-brown hair. “Sorry.” Apparently, there was some specific style of braided hair she’d seen during her last visit to the castle, and I was failing to adequately recreate it.
I brushed her hair again. “It’s very pretty down.”
“I don’t want it down.”
I blew my cheeks out and set to work again. I needed a manual on hairstyles. I knew a few braids, but not the latest fashions. Why wasn’t there a Fashion Stone? The bearer could instantly know hairstyles, clothing styles, and how to fasten the tiny satin buttons on the green dress I had to wear tonight.
After I’d finished my sixth attempt with Natalie’s hair, she scrutinized the craftsmanship.
“Close enough.”
Victory achieved, I sunk into the chair.
Joshua walked by Natalie’s room and paused. “Natalie, you look beautiful.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Papa.”
She dashed out of the room—I guessed to show off her new look to her siblings.
“Keep your dress clean!” I called after her.
Joshua leaned on the doorframe. “Well done.”
“I think she believes she looks acceptable though not as glamorous as she’d have liked. Why did I agree to take her to the spring ball?”
Leaning forward, Joshua scooped up my hand and pulled me up to him. “Because you’re a wonderful mother, and someday she’ll show you gratitude.”
I groaned. I had court politics and gossip to look forward to for the night. Joshua needed to stay home because Rebekah and Paul weren’t disciplined enough for four hours of dancing and socializing in a finite space.
“Time for you to get ready.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
I shook my head. “Alone. If you’re in the dressing room with me, I’ll never get ready.”
He gave a slight pout, but didn’t follow me down the hall.
An hour and twenty-six agonizing buttons later, I was dressed. The best I accomplished with my dark, unruly hair was an updo with dangling ringlets. I had no idea if it would be considered stylish, classic, or outdated. Regardless, I would attend the ball for Natalie’s sake not for mine.
I walked through the house, looking for Natalie.
“Stars and stones,” Joshua gasped in a husky voice. He placed his hands on my waist. “You look ravishing.”
“Easy. No disrupting the dress.” I rolled my shoulders. “I feel like one of Chef Mo’s stuffed dumplings.”
“If we’re using food analogies, I’d venture you look more like a marinated shank of lamb—slow-roasted on an open fire and ready to eat.”
My knees went weak under his hungry gaze. “Thank you, but I’ll be mostly avoiding fires tonight.”
He grinned. “Except for the ones you start.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve been known to burn a few bridges.” His tone stayed playful.
“I’ve no idea to what you’re referring. I’m a perfect lady.” I presented my cheek to him, as I batted my eyelashes.
He kissed the offered cheek sweetly. “Yes, you are.” He moved his lips close to my ear. “And when you come home tonight, wearing that dress, I’ll light a fire in you.”
A warmth of excitement coursed through me. I turned, ready to kiss him and express the passion he stirred in me when Natalie entered.
“Ready to go?” Natalie inquired.
“Ready to go.”
I took her hand, winked at Joshua, and then transported us both to the castle. I positioned us outside, under a tree and a short distance from the entrance, so we wouldn’t be spotted suddenly appearing. We walked along the procession of horse-drawn carriages. Some consisted of plain wooden boxcars, while others were ornately carved from polished oak with decorative curtains.
Natalie shook her hand free of mine. “Why couldn’t we arrive in a carriage?”
“We don’t own a carriage.” I had a cart—a rickety cart, sufficient for moving wood and hay. It wasn’t an apparatus refined enough to arrive at the castle in, though.
“Couldn’t we borrow one?” Natalie gazed longingly at the delicate carriages, with their cushioned interior seating.
“So we can sit in line? Walking is better.” I grinned. “We get to walk to the front of the line.”
“But it makes us look different.”
“We are different. We’re not politicians, or ambassadors, or bourgeoisie.”
“I don’t want to be different.”
I frowned. Since she was my daughter, being different was inevitable. I quite liked different.
Before I could think of some enlightened analogy about flowers growing among weeds, or the four-leafed clover sprouting amidst a bed of a thousand tri-leaves, we arrived at the inner gate.
I presented our invitation, and we were permitted to pass. The courtyard glowed with bioluminescent lanterns tinted pink and yellow. Urns of green flame danced as they lit the path to the ballroom.
Natalie stared in fascinated amazement. Her wide eyes observed the decorations and the fine clothing everyone wore as they filed into the ballroom. In that instant, I knew whatever discomfort I bore this evening would be worth it as the price for seeing her child wonderment.
As we entered the ballroom, formal introductions passed between us and the court ministers, foreign dignitaries, and nobles that lined the walkway to the Queen. I heard whispers in awe as some recognized the Avant Champion. Although I seldom came to court, once here, I couldn’t hide my vibrant blue eyes and dark hair.
As people met my daughter, they were immediately enamored by the small, seven-year-old girl with a polite bow and sweet smile.
Aman, the Queen’s Council, swept us through the crowd to Queen Rebekah. She sat atop a crushed velvet cushion in a high-backed chair, painted gleaming gold. Servants knelt on either side of her—young girls dressed in unobtrusive gray and unnoticed by the glittering guests.
I noticed. I’d been there. I’d been a servant to Queen Rebekah for six months, until one dark night on V-Day, when I knelt in service to the Queen on the eve of Malos’ attac
k. My life had been forever altered that night, as I’d begun my journey to become the Avant Champion.
Natalie and I gave the Queen a respectful bow.
“I am deeply pleased to see both of you,” she said.
We rose.
“Thank you, mum.”
The Queen’s pale makeup masked the lines on her face—lines that grew deeper each year I saw her. Yet, her soft eyes lent truth to the words she spoke.
The Queen regarded my daughter. “Natalie, you grow taller and more graceful each time I see you.”
Natalie’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you, mum.”
“How is your father?”
“He’s well, my Queen. He’s going to build a hospital to help people.”
“So I have heard. And what do you think about a hospital?”
Natalie answered without hesitation. “Some people say my mother is a hero, but I think my father is. He helps sick people every day. A hospital would help him treat even more people. Maybe he’ll treat them faster, so he’ll be home more.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see the Minister of Foreign Affairs offering to dance with open arms.
“Minister Tarik. How do you do?” I looked at his outstretched hands, trying to conjure words to politely decline his offer, while simultaneously keeping my face from morphing into an expression of horror.
He lifted my hands and whisked me to the dance floor.
“Abigail. We see you at far too few of these functions.” His smile gleamed white and his eyes sparkled with delight. His smooth skin was the color of coffee with cream. Like the beverage, something bitter lurked beneath his pleasant aroma.
“If I come, I’m at risk of being asked to dance.” Or not even asked and simply made to do so.