by E. A. James
“Yes.”
“Funny, I thought you would agree with them. We haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
“That doesn’t make you defective.” She glared at the yellow grass—becoming sparser and sparser the further they traveled. “People can be different from one another without being defective.” She spat to the side. “What a horrible thing to make someone feel.”
“Everyone thinks that way, you know,” he said, lips quirking upward. “We all think we’re a little better than others.”
“Well, that isn’t right.”
“Perhaps.” His smile widened. “Though that comment in itself argues that one way of thinking is defective.”
She stopped, head hurting and frustration flailing inside her.
Adrik stopped and looked back at her. He was still smiling—no, grinning at this point.
Amusement bubbled up her aching torso, and she shook her head. “Why does this make you so happy?”
“Hap—?” His lips twitched, his eyes widening before he frowned. Then he cleared his throat and continued forward. “We should really keep moving.”
“You’re keeping another secret from me?” She hurried after him, her arm grazing his. “What is it?”
“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”
“Yes, it would. It would just be a shared secret. Those exist.”
His lips quirked upward again. “Ah. Be that as it may, I prefer to keep this one to myself.”
She pouted goofily. “You’re no fun.” When he didn’t respond right away, she bumped into his firm arm again.
His smile widened just a bit more.
CHAPTER SIX
Sand in her boots, Leonie approached the first Sallimor village. Adrik strode beside her, his steps languid and indifferent to the sandy terrain. Leonie couldn’t help but glance at him with envy each time her own steps wavered.
One of these times, he caught her. “Why are you looking at me?”
She stared at his feet and pouted. “No reason.”
He opened his mouth, but his flickering gaze caught sight of something in the distant—and he abruptly faced forward.
A group of people, all well dressed, hurriedly marched out of the village and toward them. They looked like their hopped from one foot to the other, spears pointed skyward.
Leonie stopped and squinted. “That’s not because of us, is it?”
Adrik stopped, too, inhaling deeply. “We should run.”
“What? No, this looks important.”
“It looks dangerous.” He reached for her.
She ducked away and walked closer to those who marched toward them. Their uniforms were a dark blue, the large symbol on their chest a shiny white. “That looks like the royal guard, does it not?”
Adrik sucked in a breath. “It does, but I still don’t like this.”
They remained where they were until the guards finally arrived, their spears swung downward and aimed at Leonie’s chest.
Leonie shot up her hands and cringed. “Okay, maybe you were right.”
Adrik sighed, raising his hands, as well.
“Mad Duchess of Asawiss,” the guard in the center said. “You’re under arrest in order to protect the royal family from your blasphemy.”
“From my what?” She shook her head, her beating too wildly for humor to blossom. “Look, I—I only want to prevent a war. I don’t mean anyone any harm.”
Adrik took a step forward, a little in front of her. “How did you know she was the Mad Duchess?”
She clenched her teeth.
The center guard said, “We received word of her travels and impending arrival in our land. Her threats will not stand here.”
She paled. “I’m not threatening anyone!”
The center guard drew his sword and raised it close to her chin—and, subsequently, closer to Adrik’s hip. “Nor will you ever.”
Adrik grabbed the blade and squeezed, the metal shuddering within his tight grasp.
The guards’ eyes widened.
The center guard tugged at his sword, but it barely budged. He bared his teeth as fear swirled in his eyes. “Resisting arrest is also punishable. We merely intend to arrest the Mad Duchess, not her companion, but if you persist—” He growled as he pulled even harder.
Leonie slowly stepped around Adrik, her elbow tapping his upper arm. “Let go. I’m willing to go with them peacefully.”
Adrik kept his narrowed eyes on the center guard. “It isn’t right for them to do so.”
“They’re just scared. If the royals are willing to hear me out, then maybe they’ll understand.”
“They’ll lock you up for your madness.”
Discomfort crawled over her skin, she wasn’t sure how many more times she could stand being called mad. “Well, yes, possibly. But if that occurs, I can reach out to my family, and they can find a way to return me home without any violence.” She pointedly lowered her gaze to the sword in Adrik’s hand. “No one has to get hurt. Or humiliated.” She cocked an eyebrow at the guards.
Adrik’s glare deepened.
She bumped her elbow against him again.
He exhaled slowly through his flared nostrils. “Fine.” He released the sword. “But I shall be arrested with you.”
Her heart fluttered. “Adrik, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’d rather not stand here and watch them take you away when you’re right about it all.”
That had her frowning. “What if I was wrong?”
“Then they should definitely arrest you to protect others from your insanity.”
She sneered, “Seriously? What kind of loyalty is that?”
“I’ve known you for a few days. This amount of loyalty I’m giving you now is generous.”
“Generous?!”
The center guard cleared his throat loudly, regaining her attention. The other guards were nowhere near him now, and when she glanced around to search for them, two of them lightly pushed her onward.
The other few shoved themselves against Adrik’s back, making him take a half a step forward.
“No more talking until we reach the palace,” the center guard said, turning and then marching onward.
The palace consisted of many towers the color of ivory, their windows so massive that they made up the majority of some of the walls. A clear and ivory castle with guards patrolling around each tower as well as the gardens surrounding the castle grounds.
Everything sparkled and gleamed, making the structures painful and blinding if looked upon at certain angles.
Leonie kept her hands up, her arms throbbing a bit from the constant position. She rolled her shoulders back, the absence of her pack appreciated—so long as the guards didn’t damage any of its contents.
Adrik—rocky texture and all—looked like an impenetrable statue with his hands up and arms bent at perfect ninety-degree angles.
Her boots kicked up some sand as they all entered the northeast tower. With so many large windows, it almost felt like they were still outdoors. The stillness and staleness of the air informed her senses that this wasn’t the case. The tiled floors—the few tan bricks that did make up the walls—they were covered in layers of dirt and sand, but it was not unappealing. It seemed to fit this kingdom well.
She and Adrik glanced at one another as they were led to a rectangular stairwell. There, the guards stopped them before a guard on the left whispered to a man standing by the stair’s railing.
“Princess Froda had to depart some time ago,” the man—a butler—said to the guard. “But King Gier rests upon the throne now. Perhaps it would be fitting for you to take the prisoners to his majesty.”
The guards frowned at one another, brows creasing and eyes flaring with nervous energy.
Leonie turned to Adrik, who glanced at her in acknowledgment. Then she looked back at the guards. “You’re aware that I’m a young duchess, yes? Then isn’t it appropriate that I speak with some form of royalty in regards to this…misunderstandi
ng?” She flashed them her most charming smile, though it bit into her cheeks and nearly made her twitch.
The guards reluctantly took them to the tower throne room, on the sixth story—near the top where all manner of cannons were placed, perhaps only for the sake of appearances. And like the entire tower, the throne room’s walls were made mostly of glass. The floor was a more polished marble, and it sparkled with gold specs reflecting back at them.
King Gier sat upon a throne made of dark red and blue cushions. His limbs frail and his eyes beady, he stroked his long white beard as he stared at the ceiling. Though his eyes were a bit dulled—a gray fog overtaking the whites of his eyes—the boredom was clear to see within them. He blew out a long breath, shoulders sagging.
He jumped when the guards guided Leonie and Adrik to him. Eyes wide, King Gier straightened. “What is this then?”
The guards raised their spears and knocked their fists against their own chests.
“Your majesty,” the guard in front of Leonie and Adrik said before he bowed his head, “your daughter requested the capture of the Mad Duchess of Asawiss in order to ensure the safety of Sallimor.”
The king squinted at the guard and tugged on his beard. “What? Mad Duchess of—?” Gier raised his gaze to Leonie. He squinted even harder then, leaning so far forward that he was practically crouching in front of his own throne.
Leonie smiled and waved as much as she dared. She knew of him well enough, but did he know anything of her?
His eyes brightened, and he slowly sat back down. “Why you’re one of Iven’s nieces, aren’t you? Yes, Elder Duke Aldrich’s eldest child. I remember King Iven speaking highly of you and your immediate family.”
Relief cascaded over her heart. “Thank you, your majesty. My uncle Iven spoke highly of you, as well. He told us the last time he visited the kingdom of Sallimor that you had the first editions of the entire Knights of Olnorma series. He was most envious.”
“Those belonged to my son-in-law,” Geir said, patting his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m much too old to read as well as I used to.”
“Oh. Well, just to clarify what is occurring here in case your eyes continue to betray you, my companion and I are holding our hands up in surrender while your guards threaten us with their weapons.”
“What?!” He groaned as he rose out of the throne. Then he wobbled forward and squinted, his narrowed eyes raising above her head and landing on her hands. He gasped. “What an insult! Release them at once!”
The guard in front of her stammered a few words before saying, “Your daughter requested—”
“I’m your king! And these people are valued allies of Sallimor. Release them at once!”
The guards hesitated before lowering their hands and shuffling back, away from the throne and away from Leonie and Adrik.
Leonie sighed, lowering her hands. “Thank you.” She glanced over at Adrik—who appeared more curious than angry—and she smiled. “I’m afraid I have much to tell you, and when I’m finished, you may believe the rumors about me being mad. But I promise the rumors aren’t true.”
“Of course not.” He waved his wrinkled hand. “Speak away, Young Duchess. Tell an old man your story, and he will listen with as much fervor as he’s capable of.”
She took a deep breath. “Very well.”
Adrik grunted and shook his head, eyes snapping over to a few of the guards. He was still visibly tense, anticipating a fight at any moment.
She cleared her throat. “As I was saying…”
By the time she had finished her story, King Gier had sat back on his throne. His small chin rested on top both of his palms as he blinked owlishly at nothing. His facial muscles were slack.
Leonie hunched and tapped her fingers together. Her guts twirled and hopped and it was all she could do not to vomit.
Adrik wasn’t helping—what with his occasional groan and the way he shifted back and forth on his feet. He moved a little closer to her, his head turning to the side, toward the guards.
Before she even realized it, she found herself moving closer to him, too.
“Remarkable,” King Gier said. “Simply remarkable. In all my years, I’ve never heard of something so…breathtaking and amazing.”
Leonie nearly swayed on her feet, hysterical laughter threatening to bubble up and overwhelm her. “You believe me then?”
“Of course I do, my dear! I’m a Trilinity believer, faithful since I was nine years old.” He slapped his palms on top of his bony knees. “I only wished I was worthy enough to be approached by the god of fate himself. We must heed his caution at once.”
“Yes!” Leonie said, joy and relief soaring up her torso. “I agree with you completely, your majesty.” She beamed at Adrik.
Adrik muttered something—lips curled downward—but his shoulders lost their earlier tension. He stayed closer to her, though, arm brushing against hers.
She playfully bumped up against him, her giggles nearly spouting out of her.
King Gier tapped his cheeks and murmured to himself for a few moments. “A war, a war—why a war? We have no quarrels with the Kingdom of Maylorn. Corsonall had always threatened to overtake the land, not us. How strange.” He tapped his lips then, gaze lowering. “How very strange, indeed.” He clasped his hands together. “Come. We must discuss this further in the council room.” He pushed off against the throne, swayed a bit, and then walked forward. “Guards, fetch my daughter and her spouse and tell them where we’ll be. This concerns all of us.”
The guards bowed. “Yes, your majesty.”
Gier grabbed Leonie’s shoulder and Adrik’s forearm. “May Mathsus guide us through these troubling times.”
“May he, indeed,” Leonie whispered, glancing at the ceiling. She swore—for a second—that she could see another star forming right above their heads.
Adrik snorted. “May rationality be our guide.”
King Gier cackled, releasing them. “I like him! What an outspoken ally to have in your retinue.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
King Gier, despite his old bones and sluggish motion, walked around the large and spacious council room with a passionate light in his eyes. His expression pinched, he pursed his lips and muttered out his theories.
“Maybe Maylorn is the one who initiates the war,” he said, eyebrows rising. “Oh, that would be unexpected. Their military is nonexistent. They would be slaughtered. Or would they?” He hummed to himself, walking a little faster and rapping his knuckles against the long table in the center of the room. “Perhaps it is our army that starts the war. Maybe they’ll go rogue! Oh dear.” He clicked his tongue. “But what would be their reasons?”
Leonie sat at the other end of the table, Adrik standing beside her due to the small size of the chairs. She leaned back and crossed her arms, her own mind wandering as she tried to think of possible threats.
“We should go to Maylorn,” Adrik whispered to her. “This—what we’re doing now is a waste of time.”
“We’ve only been here for less than an hour.”
“And all we’ve heard is the babblings of a madman.”
She glared. “He’s not mad, nor am I. And even if we were, that would make you mad for following us.”
Adrik huffed, gaze shifting to the table. “What a terrifying conclusion.”
Gier raised both hands and cried, “I have it!”
Leonie jumped, her heart leaping to her throat. “Yes?” She stood. “You’ve figured it out?”
“Perhaps the god of death wishes to destroy both our lands by compelling us to war!”
Her heart sank right back in its place. “I…” She turned to Adrik, who shook his head and smirked. She bumped her elbow against him, but the smirk didn’t vanish. “It’s possible, at least. It’s good to try and come up with ideas.”
Adrik’s expression did somber a bit at that.
Gier’s hands quivered as he lowered them, his wide eyes darting all about. “Mors, God of Death, spare us this plight, ple
ase.” He turned around.
Leonie sighed, bowing her head. “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered to Adrik. “But what will the royals know in Maylorn that the royals here don’t know?”
“I wish I knew,” Adrik whispered.
Gier was still praying to Mors when Princess Froda—a middle-aged woman in a flowing maroon gown—and her husband, Prince Almund, strode into the room and stopped in front of Gier.
Gier jolted. “Daughter! You’ve startled me.” He patted his chest. “You must not startle an elderly man, it could prove fatal!”