Except for Serilda, Cho, and Paloma.
The three of them had been separated from the rest of the troupe and were kneeling in the snow off to one side with guards clustered around them. They must have fought back against the Ungers. Serilda’s left arm hung limp and useless by her side, as though it had been broken, Cho’s face was a mess of bruises, and Paloma’s hands were covered with blood, although I couldn’t tell if it was hers or someone else’s.
The Ungers must have thought that Sullivan and I were dangerous too, because they herded us over and forced us to kneel in the snow beside Serilda, Cho, and Paloma.
“What happened?” Sullivan whispered.
“They came from out of nowhere,” Serilda muttered. “After the storm stopped, we started digging the wagons out of the snow. One second, we were alone. The next, they were inside the wagon circle. Cho, Paloma, and I tried to drive them back, but you can see how well that worked out. We’re lucky they haven’t killed us all yet.”
She fell silent, and I listened to our captors. They were speaking Ungerian, but I could understand them perfectly, thanks to all those years of language lessons at Seven Spire.
A short, burly man with black hair, dark brown eyes, and onyx skin was talking to the tall, redheaded man, who seemed to be the leader.
“It’s possible that they just became lost in the storm, Halvar,” the short man said, stroking his long, bushy beard.
“No, Bjarni,” Halvar, the leader, replied. “They are spies for the Bellonan queen. Otherwise, they would have all been here, taking shelter from the storm. But instead, those two were off in the forest.” He stabbed his finger at Sullivan and me. “So what were they doing, if not spying? Besides, she told us to be careful. So careful we shall be.”
She? Who was she? And why were the Ungers so worried about us being spies? What were they hiding?
“And she would not want us to be hasty either,” Bjarni replied. “We have enough problems already. Do you really want to add to them by killing all these people? Think of how long it will take us just to bury their bodies.”
Halvar sighed, and the two men engaged in a long conversation about what to do. Finally, Halvar won, and it was agreed that everyone in the troupe had trespassed, so everyone would be killed as punishment.
Serilda must have spoken at least a little Ungerian, because her face hardened. She held her right hand out to her side, slowly got to her feet, and stepped forward. The Ungers tensed and brandished their weapons, but she stood straight and tall.
“If you’re going to kill someone, then kill me,” she called out. “I am the leader of this gladiator troupe, I am the one who led us on this route, and I am the one who got us lost in the storm. This is my fault. Everyone else is innocent.”
Halvar studied her. For a moment, I thought he might agree, but then, he shook his head. “Kill her,” he said in the common tongue so that everyone could understand him. “Kill them all.”
The Ungers raised their weapons and moved forward. Everyone in the troupe pressed in tighter together, yelling and screaming and crying. My stomach twisted. The magier hadn’t managed to murder us with the storm, but we were still going to die.
I should have been worried, panicked, terrified. But instead, I found myself thinking about those long hours and weeks that I had spent learning that Ungerian dance. All that time wasted on a silly tradition, and now here I was, about to die at the hands of the Ungers anyway—
My eyes widened, and a crazy idea popped into my mind.
“Wait!” I called out in Ungerian. “Wait!”
Halvar stopped and looked at me, surprised that I was speaking his language. So did everyone else. But it was the only thing that might save us now, along with another one of my many useless skills.
“Evie!” Paloma hissed. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, I scrambled to my feet and darted forward, so that I was standing next to Serilda.
“I demand to perform the Tanzen Freund!” I called out, still speaking their language.
Shocked murmurs rippled through the Ungers, and they looked at me with surprise and interest. Well, that was better than killing us.
Halvar strode forward and stabbed his finger at me. Anger glinted in his hazel eyes, as well as in those of the ogre on his neck. “What do you know of our dance?” he asked, switching to the common tongue. “How dare you even speak of it!”
He probably expected me to wilt in the face of his fury, but I’d gotten rather good at standing up for myself these past few months, and I remained calm and confident.
“Oh, I know plenty about it. For example, I know that once the offer to dance is given, it cannot be rescinded, and the dancer and all those who are with her are granted safe passage until the dance is finished.” I paused. “Unless you want to dishonor your own tradition?”
Bjarni snickered. Halvar glared at him, but the other man shrugged.
“Perhaps she does know the dance. She has certainly twirled you into a corner, my friend.” Bjarni let out another snicker.
But Halvar wasn’t to be so easily twirled. He stabbed his finger at me again. “Well, then, if we are going on tradition, then you must perform the dance perfectly . Otherwise, it will be seen as an insult, and your life will be forfeit. One false move, one hesitant step, and you will be killed on the spot.”
“My life is forfeit, but the lives of my friends are not, ” I snapped right back at him. “According to tradition, as long as I perform the Tanzen Freund and accept the consequences of failing, my friends will not be harmed by you and yours.”
Halvar’s lips pressed together. He didn’t want to agree to my terms, even though they were tradition. I stepped closer and stabbed my finger at him this time.
“My friends will not be harmed by you and yours,” I said in a loud, strong voice. “You will provide them the full extent of your hospitality, as you would any honored guests. That means food, clothing, warmth, and shelter for as long as they require it. Are we agreed? Or will you dishonor yourself and your people?”
Halvar looked at the other morphs, who were still regarding me with curiosity. Bjarni seemed highly amused, a grin stretching across his face.
“Fine,” Halvar snarled. “If you want to perform the dance so badly, then you will get your wish.” He smiled, showing me his teeth, as did the ogre on his neck. “But when you fail, I will tear you to pieces with my bare hands for daring to insult me and my people this way.”
I smiled back at him. “Then we are agreed.”
Halvar’s eyes narrowed, as if he was disappointed that I wasn’t quivering with fear, but he nodded. “Agreed.”
He stared at me a moment longer, then waved his hand at the other morphs. “Bring them.”
* * *
The Ungers helped dig the troupe wagons out of the snow. Once everything and everyone was loaded up inside the wagons again, the Ungers retrieved their own horses from where they had hidden them deeper in the forest.
And then they took us to their castle.
It was carved out of a mountain, the same way that Seven Spire was, although it was much smaller than the Bellonan palace. Large, round windows were set into the dark gray granite walls, offering sweeping views of the surrounding forest, while tall, round turrets topped with black slate roofs soared up into the air. I glanced up at the turrets, expecting to see crested flags flapping in the wind, but the pinnacles were empty, as if whoever lived here didn’t want to announce their presence to the outside world. Curious.
The castle was less than three miles away from our camp, and if we had continued on our path, we would have passed right by it. No wonder the Ungers had thought that we were spies. We had practically marched up to their front door.
Under the watchful eyes of Halvar, Bjarni, and the rest of our escorts, the wagons crossed the stone drawbridge that led to the castle and stopped in a large courtyard. More Ungers appeared, all of them morphs as well, to help the troupe workers take care of the horses
and gargoyles. Once that was done, everyone grabbed their supplies from the wagons. Halvar grunted and jerked his hand, and we followed him into the castle, still surrounded by our escorts.
We walked past room after room filled with mahogany tables and chairs, stained glass lamps, and other fine furnishings. Tapestries depicting forest and mountain scenes covered the walls, while thick rugs stretched across the floors, softening the hard stone underfoot. Everything was simple, but well-made. It was far less luxurious than Seven Spire, but it was warm and dry, which was all I cared about after being out in the cold and snow.
Still, the longer we walked, the more I noticed the ogres.
Ogre faces and figures glared at us from every furnishing in every corner of the castle. They were carved into the tabletops, pieced together in the stained glass lamps, threaded into the tapestries, and even chiseled into the walls, just like the gladiators in the columns at Seven Spire. I grimaced as I walked across a rug that featured a snarling ogre face that was more teeth than anything else. It seemed as though whoever lived here wanted everyone to know exactly how powerful and dangerous they were.
I expected Halvar to insist on my performing the dance immediately, but instead, he led us to a large dining hall. Halvar grunted again, then pointed at the tables, telling us to sit. Serilda took the seat at the head of the table. I wound up sitting next to her, with Paloma beside me. Sullivan was across from me, with Cho next to him. The rest of the troupe sat down as well.
More Ungers appeared with trays full of food and drinks, which they deposited on the tables before stepping away. They didn’t go far, though. The Ungers lined the walls, their hands clasped behind them, watching us.
Halvar scowled at me, then everyone else. “Well?” he snapped, throwing up his hands. “What are you waiting for? Eat! Drink!”
Serilda, Paloma, Sullivan, and Cho looked at me, the same silent question on all their faces, wondering if I could smell any poison on the food. I drew in a breath, but I didn’t sense any scents that shouldn’t be here. I nodded at them, then did the same thing to Halvar.
“You honor us with your hospitality,” I said in a dry tone.
An angry flush stained his cheeks, but he nodded back at me, then strode out of the dining hall. Bjarni remained behind, standing along the wall, an amused look on his face again. Well, at least I was entertaining someone.
The meal was simple—beef, potatoes, and other vegetables in a seasoned stew—but it was warm, hearty, and filling, and served with crusty bread slathered with honey butter. We washed everything down with tall mugs of spiced apple cider.
For several minutes, the dining hall was quiet, except for the scrapes of forks and spoons on dishes and bowls as everyone dug into their meals. Eventually, the food and drinks warmed everyone enough for them to start whispering. People stared at the Ungers, then at me. I grimaced, but I couldn’t stop the speculative stares and whispers, so I concentrated on my food.
After all, this was most likely my last meal.
Several minutes later, I pushed my empty dishes aside. So did Serilda, Paloma, Sullivan, and Cho. They all looked at me, more questions in their eyes.
“How do you know how to speak Ungerian?” Paloma asked.
I could have lied. I probably should have lied. But it had been a long day, and I was tired. Even more than that, I was tired of lying, of always watching my words, of always worrying that I was going to do or say something that would give away my true identity. Besides, what was the point of lying now? I would be dead soon enough.
“I know lots of languages.”
“And do you really know this dance that you’ve demanded to perform?” Cho asked.
I shrugged. “More or less.”
“But the Ungers said that if you don’t perform it perfectly, every single step, then they will execute you on the spot.” Worry rippled through Sullivan’s voice.
“Yes, they will. But on the bright side, they can’t lay a finger on any of you now,” I said. “Don’t you dare let them renege on that. You remind them of their bloody tradition and honor, and you hold them to their word.”
Serilda stared at me. “So you’ve traded your life for all of ours. Why?”
“Well, it was either that or watch everyone get slaughtered. Believe me, I’ve seen enough innocent people die already.” My lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Besides, I wanted to finally do something useful with all the useless skills that I’ve learned.”
She frowned, wondering what I meant. So did the others, but I didn’t explain my cryptic words.
Finally, the meal ended. Halvar strode back into the dining hall and crooked his finger at me.
Showtime.
I pushed back from the table and followed him. Serilda, Paloma, Sullivan, and Cho followed me, with everyone else from the troupe trailing along behind them. The Ungers were at the back of the pack, still watching everyone.
Halvar led us to an open-air courtyard on the back side of the castle. By this point, the sun had set behind the mountains, and night had fallen over the land like a midnight blanket. The air was quite cold, although thankfully no more snowflakes fell from the sky.
A second-story balcony set with glass doors wrapped around the courtyard, while a series of columns and archways at the opposite end divided the area from the lawn in the distance. And just like in the rest of the castle, images of ogres adorned everything, from the glass in the doors to the stone rails in the balcony to the columns in the distance.
The balcony, columns, and archways were studded with small, diamond-shaped fluorestones that bathed the courtyard in soft white light. The steady glow of the fluorestones gave life to the ogre figures, making them seem as if they were watching and waiting to attack us. Still, I would have thought it a fierce, lovely scene, if not for the fact that I most likely wouldn’t be leaving here alive.
To my surprise, chairs lined one side of the courtyard, and a group of Ungerian musicians were softly tuning their instruments in the corner. Lady Xenia certainly would have approved of that. She had always had live musicians perform at her finishing school, even when the students were just practicing their dance steps.
Halvar grunted again and stabbed his finger at the chairs, and the troupe members went over and took their seats. Above them, on the second-floor balcony, several glass doors opened, and more Ungers streamed outside and sat down in the chairs on that level.
When everyone was seated, a door in the center of the balcony opened, and a tall figure stepped outside. A long black coat obscured the figure’s body, while a black hat and a thick veil covered their head, hiding their features. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The figure stopped a moment, studying me, then sat down in a plush chair. Whoever the figure was, they had the best seat in the courtyard, and the other Ungers nodded their heads respectfully to them.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Your judge,” Halvar growled.
Of course.
“You have five minutes to prepare yourself,” he growled again.
He strode across the courtyard and began speaking to the musicians. That left me alone with Serilda, Paloma, Sullivan, and Cho.
“Maybe Halvar will change his mind,” I said.
“About what?” Cho asked.
“Maybe he’ll cut off my head instead of ripping me to pieces with his teeth and talons.”
The others looked at me, shock filling their faces. They might be gladiators and used to seeing people fight, bleed, and die, but my nonchalance about my own impending demise surprised them. I shrugged. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat things. Not here, now, at the end.
“It’s not too late. We can still try to fight our way out of here.” Paloma eyed the other ogre morphs, and her fingers flexed, as if she was thinking about her own inner teeth and talons and how she could use them to rip into the Ungers.
I shook my head. “No, this was my decision. I knew the risks, and I’ll accept the consequences. Besides, according to tradition, if
I don’t perform the dance, everyone’s life is forfeit. Better for me to die than all of you.”
Paloma stared at me, concern filling her eyes. Then her face hardened, as if she’d made an important decision. She turned so that she was standing directly in front of me, drew in a breath, and slowly let it out.
And then she morphed.
Paloma was already tall, but in an instant, she shot up several inches, until she was well over six feet. The muscles in her arms, chest, and legs expanded, along with the rest of her body, and her fingernails lengthened, darkened, and sharpened into long black talons. Her lips drew back in a grimace, revealing the sharp, jagged teeth in her mouth. Her amber eyes gleamed as brightly as candles, and her blond braids glinted and rippled with the same golden light.
Paloma grimaced again, as if she was afraid that I was going to call her a monster the way her father had, but she held her ground, lifted her chin, and looked at me. My heart squeezed tight. She really did trust me, and she really was my friend—the first true one that I had had since my parents had died.
And now I had to say goodbye to her.
I stepped forward, put my hands on her massive arms, and gave them a gentle squeeze, although her hard muscles didn’t move. I would have hugged her, but I couldn’t have gotten my arms all the way around her now.
“Thank you for showing me this. You are so strong and fierce and brave and beautiful. And don’t you dare let anyone else tell you otherwise.”
Paloma’s grimace turned up into a smile. She stared at me a moment longer, then dropped her head and stepped back. An instant later, her teeth, talons, and muscles vanished, and she was her regular human self again. Then she stared at me, an expectant look on her face.
My turn.
Serilda, Cho, and Sullivan glanced back and forth between Paloma and me, wondering what was going on. They had all helped me in their own way, and they deserved to hear the truth too.
I nodded at Paloma, then grabbed the black velvet bag from its hiding place on my belt loop. I opened the drawstrings and poured the contents into my hand. Then I held my palm out where the others could see my treasures. The opal memory stone, one of the black feathers from my gladiator costume, the silver bracelet with its tearstone crown. Serilda, Cho, and Sullivan all frowned, not understanding the importance of the items—yet.
Kill the Queen (Crown of Shards #1) Page 66