by Raven Oak
“That’s an odd thought.”
Adelei bit her tongue. Not really, not if you are stealing land from neighboring kingdoms.
She gave a tired smile and continued, “But again, he covers his tracks. Anyone who’s a witness doesn’t live long enough to say anything. Not even the Amaskans have evidence on him, though that wouldn’t stop us from acting if necessary.”
“I thought the Amaskans followed an honor code of justice.”
“We do. Amaskans are like the local peacekeepers, just not limited to a specific locale. We often step in, especially when someone can’t be reached by the local law.” When her father’s frown deepened, she continued, “Let’s look at this Prince—everyone seems to think he’s guilty of great crimes, but proof hasn’t been found to one hundred percent confirm this. If you were to contract out the Amaskans on this, because the knowledge we do have leans toward his guilt, they would probably accept the contract and take care of him for the safety of the people of all the Little Dozen Kingdoms.”
“So you would execute a man with no real evidence? Just conjecture?”
“People’s words count for more than you think, Your Highness. How often do you rely on the opinion of others before carrying out justice in your kingdom?” Adelei glanced up at her father, a triumphant smile on her face. But his shoulders sagged and flesh stretched too tight across thin bones. Her smile fell. Why did she care though what he thought? He stared at her as if she were a stranger, which only confused her further. “You look… concerned.”
“I didn’t realize the Amaskans held life in so little regard.”
Anger swept away some of her confusion. “Your Majesty, we are the only ones who hold it in such high esteem. Before the Order of Amaska takes a contract, we research. We study. We make absolutely sure we come down on the right side, that whoever our contract kill is, that the person is evil. That it’s a necessary killing.”
“So what did you do?” he whispered.
“I don’t follow.”
“What did you do that was so evil that the Amaskans called for your death? Surely Ida told you.”
Adelei stood and put the chair between them. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. Something grew in the pit of her stomach, some terrible knowledge, and the room spun. She gripped the chair’s back with whitened knuckles. “She was sent to kidnap me, yes.”
“She was sent to kill you.”
“I think she misunderstood. Master Bredych would never harm a child, nor would any in the Order.”
Her father laughed, but his fisted fingers betrayed his façade. “The man slit the throat of his own sister. Yet you doubt his ability to kill a child? Why else do you think you were taken?”
“For a peace treaty,” she muttered. Adelei wrapped the lie around her shoulders in the chill of the room.
“You still believe that lie?” His cup flew to land on its side before the fireplace. “I never sold you, child. Peace treaty be damned.” A guardsman peeked into the room and darted back out at Adelei’s narrowed glare.
“What Ida told you was truth. She was sent to kill you but could not. Don’t you see? The honor code you seek is what saved you. Ida knew it went against the Order’s supposed code to kill a helpless child, so she refused. And for that, her brother tried to kill her. Your own people whom you call family—they aren’t as justified as you think. They talk a good talk in the recruitment room, but when it comes down to it, they aren’t much more than hired thugs on a zealot’s quest to eradicate his idea of evil.”
Her own fist curled. She wanted to hit him.
Wanted to rip the lying tongue from his mouth. The battle rage fell on her, and she tasted blood where she’d bitten her tongue. King Leon stepped toward her, his hands outstretched. “Adelei, look at yourself. I speak the truth—you know it—and yet they have you wanting me dead. I can see it in your eyes, child. You want to kill your own father for speaking truth. What kind of person does that? Certainly not a peacekeeper of justice.”
The throwing knives were within reach. Her finger rested on one at her wrist. She could have it out and halfway to this throat before he could call for the guards. But that would be wrong. He was the client, not the enemy.
Before her body caught up with the direction of her thoughts, Adelei tumbled out the door. Her feet carried her in the stable’s direction where she lost the contents of her dinner. What is wrong with me? Why am I so off-kilter?
She touched a hand to her clammy cheek. By the time her mind stopped swimming enough to recognize her surroundings, the lump in her throat had grown. Adelei stared at the stall her horse had once occupied. The mare, not Midnight, whickered at her lightly and sniffed her shoulder in search of food. “I’m all out of carrots,” she muttered.
In the absence of a treat, she scratched the horse behind the ears absentmindedly. He’s right. Damn him, he’s right. Why did Master Bredych want me dead? How could he accept a contract on a child? And who had ordered the contract? I don’t know him at all—my own father and he’s nothing like the man I grew up knowing. Can I trust anything he’s ever said? The questions came fast and hard, relentlessly hammering on her psyche.
Boots scuffled the stone floor. Another assassin? Adelei spun on her heel until she faced the stall’s entrance. A single candlelight provided little illumination. She scratched the mare and gave the impression that all she wanted was some one-on-one with a horse. But her muscles quivered in response to the battle rush.
Another candlelight approached. Prince Gamun leaned over the stall’s half door, all smiles. “I thought I saw you heading this way. How curious to find you in the stables, considering your horse is dead.”
Words meant to hurt only angered Adelei. I’ve had a lot of shit thrown at me today, and you’ve picked the wrong person to mess with. I’m itching for a good fight. She clenched her teeth and said, “Curiouser still to find Your Highness here, among the horse shit.”
Adelei snatched the brush from the wall beside her and had the joy of watching him flinch. She groomed the mare, the soothing motion helping to control the boil beneath the surface.
“I was always taught that the Amaskans were the ultimate in the practice of neutrality, their justice carried out in swift impartiality and calm. And yet you are an enigma. Considered the best of the best—despite having a temper like thunder. How is it that you gained your place amongst the Amaskans?” The corners of his mouth curled up in half-smile, half-grimace.
She didn’t answer, but the brush’s motions sped up. He continued, “Maybe you gained your place through your father. Having a parent in high places, even an adopted one, is useful, wouldn’t you say? I’ve always found it to be quite helpful indeed.”
When his hand touched the mare’s neck, she shook her mane and whinnied. Adelei patted her. “I earned my place through the same training as any other,” she said. “There is no favoritism amongst the Amaskans.”
“And yet you feel it necessary to defend yourself. Something has you walking on a blade’s edge. I’ve seen you before, you know. You once were in Shad to kill a man—my cousin in fact. You moved with a confidence and strength that I admired. I said to myself, ‘Now there’s a warrior who knows death. Who isn’t afraid to die, but seeks it out like a lover.’”
“I don’t—”
He interrupted her, holding his hand up beside her face. “Moved, past tense, Master Adelei. The person standing before me now is no Amaskan. You seem unsure of who you are these days. And I can’t help but wonder why that is.”
“I am Amaskan—”
He tapped her scar. “Former Amaskan. Does it confuse you? The struggle of loyalty?”
“What do you mean?” She allowed her fingers to tremble as they brushed the mare.
“I mean, does it pain you that you’re going to have to choose?”
She faced him, trying to read him, but the smile that lit up his eyes in the candlelight covered any truth that could have hidden amongst his features. “Either speak plai
nly or leave. I came out here to be alone with my thoughts.” Adelei returned to brushing the mare, leaving her back to him.
Come on, take the bait. She leaned over the horse and allowed her shoulders to slump. He’d been right about her knowledge of death, but it wasn’t lost knowledge, despite her inner turmoil.
“Do you still love him like a father, even knowing what he ordered done to you? What he tried to do to his sister?”
Adelei fought then to remain in her vulnerable position. Her body screamed out to move. When she didn’t, he leaned his frame against her backside, his lips so close to her ear that she could smell the wine on his breath. “I know more about you than you do, Master Adelei. Information is power, as well you know. What will I do with this information, hmmm? You have to be asking yourself that,” he whispered, and his arm encircled her waist. She allowed the contact, though her nerves screamed.
“This marriage will happen, or I will take my information to the highest bidder. Be that the Boahim Senate or the Tribor, it makes no difference. Either way, you will still be dead, as you should have stayed, Iliana Poncett of Alexander.”
“And what makes you think this knowledge is unknown? Or correct? Threatening an Amaskan is never a good idea.” She tried to face him, to prove she was calling his bluff, but he held her in place.
“Now, now—it doesn’t have to be like that, Master Adelei.”
Cold fingers stroked her cheek. She shut her eyes and willed herself to remain calm. He’s toying with you—ignore it. Get the information. Let him think he’s winning. Adelei allowed herself a slight shiver, which elicited another chuckle from the prince.
“I’m a powerful man, Master Adelei. I could buy your contract, set you free of all of this. With you and me together, no one could stop us. We could shape the Little Dozen as we like.”
“And why should that tempt me?”
“Because with me, you know what you’re getting.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Sure you do,” he said, “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. What I know. Who I am. I could keep these things hidden, but I don’t. I am what I am. Can you say the same about… your father?”
Adelei held back her wince.
“Your father sent you away and into the hands of those who wanted you dead. What if I told you this same father has plans for you yet?”
She froze. The action this time was genuine. “What do you mean?”
The mare butted Adelei’s hand, and she absently brushed the mare’s shoulder. “The Little Dozen. Why do you think I want this marriage? King Leon has plans to seize the kingdoms—all of them—and I’m here to stop him. For the good of the people.”
“You’re mad,” she muttered.
“Am I? Think about it. Why else would he bring you home after all this time? If not to strike an alliance with the master you call father, the man who stole you away. Bring you back home so you can help them both.”
Her hand paused mid-stroke. “I don’t think so—”
“Think of it, Adelei.” He hugged her closer. “One could spread the Amaskans further than before, and the other has an Amaskan princess to lead the way and conquer the Little Dozen.”
His words carried enough truth to stir the doubt within her. “You have proof of this?”
Prince Gamun grinned against her neck. “I have proof that the King has been changing his borders. The rest, not yet. With your help, we could change that.”
“Where’s the proof on Alexander’s borders?” She tilted her head to see his face, but his eyes were closed. Relaxed. Where her body was shoe tacks, his was a calm river.
"In my suite, of course. I don’t make a habit of carrying around documents like that in enemy territory. If you wish to pay me a visit, I would be willing to show you these documents—”
“And Princess Margaret?”
“A simpleton. A dressed-up waif. Easily broken and discarded.”
Interesting choice of words. I wouldn’t visit your rooms for all the money in this kingdom. His fingers stroked her cheek again to the line of her jaw down and middle of her neck. Adelei tensed, a reaction he felt through her clothing. He released his grip a small amount, and she asked, “And your previous plans to kill me? The Tribor?”
“My father’s plans, not mine. But I can convince him you are worth keeping alive. Long enough for you to kill him. Surely it won’t be the first king you’ve taken out.”
Wrong move. Adelei slid sideways and out of his grasp. “You couldn’t afford me if you tried, which I suggest you don’t.”
Prince Gamun tossed a coin into the hay by her feet. Its bronze face was vaguely familiar. “Well, your company has been enjoyable, Master Adelei, but I have someone waiting for me. Enjoy your evening with your thoughts. Think about my offer.”
“Wait—” she cried out, but he’d stepped back into the shadows and was gone.
I should go after him. But that was what he wanted. Adelei bent over to retrieve the coin, an old coin, its edges worn. She wiped the mud off with a fistful of hay and gasped when her own childhood face stared back at her. When she flipped the coin over, the other side bore her sister’s face: her nose just a tad smaller, and her brows less dense.
She’d not seen these coins in use before, not in the past ten years she’d traveled the Little Dozen Kingdoms. The coin must have been from before the war. How’d he get a coin like this? More importantly, how does he know who I am? While she shrugged it off for the moment, her skin still crawled where he’d touched her. She took her time leaving the stall. I’ve got to get a hold of myself. If I don’t, someone is going to get killed. Maybe me. Probably my sister.
By the time Adelei reached her rooms, she didn’t want sleep. Not after that. She sat cross-legged on the cold floor with only one candle to light the room. She remained dressed but had shed anything she carried.
Weaponless and vulnerable.
“I come before the Gods, an empty vessel. For guidance, for balance, for clarity and neutrality,” she whispered and closed her eyes. She pictured the candle flame in her mind and breathed deep of the herbs burning beside it. “I am not myself. I don’t know who I am, and all these questions only further the confusion in my mind. If I’m to do my job, to succeed and do what is best for all peoples, I need your help. I don’t normally ask for it, but I find myself adrift.”
Adelei focused on the inhale and exhale until she slipped into a trance state, ready for whatever the Gods saw fit to bestow upon her. An hour passed. The lack of burning herbs caught her attention first. Her legs tingled, but nothing filled her with a sense of peace or comfort. The knots remained in overly tense muscles. The old, confused self remained intact, brimming with a million questions that had no answers.
She bit her lip. Damn. Double damn. I’m on my own.
“Duke Remy and Duchess Nadine Dauphena of Brussell,” called out a young squire. The two approached the dais where Adelei stood.
Instead of merely hovering behind the royal family as one of the guards, Adelei was the center of attention this early morning. She hadn’t wanted this. Her job was to protect Princess Margaret and seek out the truth about Alexander’s borders, but King Leon had insisted. Required it even.
Instead of the black, tight fitting clothing she preferred, King Leon had adorned her in this blue get up, like she was little more than a guard. A blue tunic that reached halfway to her knees was tied off around the waist by a thick, black belt. Darker blue leggings tucked into mid-calf boots. And to top it off, a white, silk sash with silver stars marked her as Alexander’s sepier.
He’d refused to allow her a head scarf. “Besides, your hair has grown back enough. Bit on the short side, but most females in the royal guard wear their hair rather short.”
“There’s short, and then there’s this,” she’d said, pointing at her head. “I look like a freshly shorn sheep.”
The King hadn’t helped matters by laughing, but in the end, her black stubble stood out with the rest of h
er. The kingdom’s new sepier—on parade for the kingdom’s nobles.
Good old Remy looked like he was older than the castle. The man’s head was balder than Adelei’s now, and his joints creaked as he and his wife approached.
“May I present to you, Sepier Adelei,” said King Leon, and Adelei presented her dirk as instructed. He’d told her to wear the sword he’d presented her with at the ceremony’s start, but she had given it to Captain Fenton.
I may not get to wear my own clothes, but by the Gods, I’ll wear my own weapon. While the Duke grinned at her, the Duchess scowled as her husband not only bowed, but kissed Adelei’s hand, ignoring the dirk altogether. “By the blessing of the Thirteen, may your… dirk serve this kingdom well,” the old man said, and his wife mumbled his words.
Behind her, Prince Gamun yawned. Even he’s bored with all this pomp and circumstance. And a prince should be used to it.
The couple moved past, and the squire announced a single name, the Duchess of Verdon. She moved through the motions as quickly as possible and stepped on the hem of her long skirts when she ambled away. Most opportunities to dabble with the nobles brought a large crowd, at least thus far it had, but today it seemed the only ones present were those required to witness King Leon naming her as sepier.
And most of them would rather have been elsewhere. Her outfit wasn’t fooling anyone. From the stubble to the scar, the highborns of Alexander knew exactly what she was. I’m just lucky they turned up their noses at me rather than stoned me to death. At least the makeup disguised her other identity. No need to loosen that squall upon the highborns.
The squire moved on to introduce the earls and barons of Alexander, the first of which was Lady Millicent Sebald and her portly husband. At least the lady she knew, well enough to smile in greeting despite sore cheek muscles.
Other than those required, the royal guard stood watch over the proceeding and a scattering of city folk stood far in the back. Bright sunshine streamed through the windows, and Adelei sighed. “Not too much longer,” King Leon whispered.