Sheltered Roots

by Jeanne Allen

  On my other side, Lakshimi steps up. She also seems unconcerned with how much of the Queen’s money we’re using. “Would it be possible to send me back to Region Five? I’d like to bring Bernadette’s body to her family in person.”

  There’s a stillness about Lakshimi that I find unsettling. She’s always seemed regal and mature to me, and her inner light always shone through. Now, Lakshimi’s stillness seems somber and dull. I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off.

  I try to reason with myself to smooth over the pain of her rejection. It’s because of me that Birdie died, and I was the last one to be with her. Anyone would feel resentment in this situation, so I can’t blame Lakshimi.

  Doesn’t make it hurt less to lose a friend, though.

  I turn my attention back to Queen Njay, who answers Lakshimi, her voice softer than it had been since the moment we arrived. “I can arrange that for you, my dear. If you promise to come back and visit when you are feeling well.”

  The two women share a long moment. Finally, Lakshimi offers a small nod.

  The Queen’s face lights up with a warm smile that seems more unsettling than her usual polite mask. “Brilliant. Let’s get you all to the airport. Lakshimi, you will have to wait, because I only have one plane fueled.”

  Lakshimi says nothing, just nods again and goes to sit back down in our pillow-mound. She pulls a blanket up to her chin and closes her eyes.

  “All… right,” I mutter.

  “Just let her be. She’ll reach out to us when she’s ready. Her partner just died,” Sarah says softly, pulling me to where the Warrior Knights wait to lead our little party back to the portal we entered through a few hours earlier.

  I give Lakshimi one last look, but she doesn’t even open her eyes at the sound of our departure. Sighing, I turn away. I don’t feel right leaving her like that, but I have little choice. I hope Lakshimi will join us after she heals, but based on the look Queen Njay sends her way, she won’t let Lakshi go easily.

  After one last, lingering glance, Queen Njay saunters past us and out into the hall, her Consorts following behind her silently.

  Even Saia doesn’t say a word. Instead, she gives me a smirk and wiggles her brows before bouncing off to attach herself to Amara. Watching their quiet affection, a sharp pang echoes through my Bond. For a moment, I panic, thinking something happened to the guys, but then I recognize my own loneliness. I felt it often enough before meeting my Kladí.

  I miss them. I miss them so much it’s all I can do to drag my feet in the direction of the portal. Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice Sarah leave my side until we reach the portal, and I spot Kieran already standing next to it.

  I see Sarah with the guards and hurry to slip through, lest I lose our little group.

  Though they look similar, this portal doesn’t spit us back into the same tunnel we entered through. This time, the tunnels we take are lit with real lights and floored with warm marble. The sides are still obviously made up of the mountain we’re beneath, but the effect makes it feel like we’re traveling in a basement rather than a cave.

  Saia provides additional light, her hands completely encased with bright flames.

  I’m eternally grateful she’s up at the front of our procession, near Amara and the Queen.

  Sarah walks up front as well, quietly talking to Captain Damarae, who rejoined us at some point to lead the expedition. Following behind the Queen, Zhdan and Katsuo stalk through the cave as silently as Jin. Kieran and I are in the back with a few guards behind us. The tunnels are narrow, so I’m glad none of the members of Region Twelve are milling about today.

  Maybe we’re taking special Royal tunnels. With the importance the Phósopoi put on bloodline and royalty, it doesn’t seem that far-fetched.

  I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice when we reach our destination until I hear the sound of rushing water. Somehow, we made it back to the entrance we came in through, though I don’t remember walking through another portal.

  I turn to Kieran. “Did we go through a portal without me noticing?”

  Kieran grins, shaking his head. “No, love. This isn’t the same entrance. That one is probably still crawling with Queen Njay’s cleanup crew. This is a different exit, probably one of her private ones.”

  Kieran’s explanation proves my theory that we’re using the royal tunnels. I’m baffled that the Queen doesn’t seem to trust us enough to let us meet her people or see the rest of her Seat but will take us through her private entrance.

  The Queen in question breaks me out of my thoughts when she gestures lazily toward the end of the tunnel, where a plain white door stands. No magical stone wall this time.

  “This will take you to a parking lot. Don’t worry. It’s for my people only, so no one will think it’s strange when you exit.” She gives me a small smile, like she said that for my benefit; my worries must have been more obvious than I thought. “Captain Damarae will take you to the airport. A pilot is waiting at my private hanger. This is where we part. I wish you well.”

  “As with you, Queen Njay. We will not forget your kindness,” Sarah says softly, dropping into a deep curtsy.

  I nearly fall over in my haste to copy her actions. Kieran folds himself into a deep bow as well.

  Following the most formal of the Phósopoi traditions, we don’t rise until the Queen speaks again. “I will collect. I warn you; I am not kind by nature.”

  I straighten just in time to catch Sarah giving the Queen a sharp nod before turning to open the door. My earlier suspicions are correct. Queen Njay isn’t just helping us out of kindness. There’s no way a Queen known for being ruthless—and even bloodthirsty—would agree to help us like this.

  There must be something she wants from us.

  Given the fact that she wasn’t surprised by my identity and hasn’t said anything about it since I introduced myself, I’m betting that something has to do with me.

  “Nuggets and sauce,” I swear.

  There isn’t much you can do about that now, the back-of-my-head voice reminds me.

  I school my face into the court mask I mastered in Phóspolis and move to follow Sarah out, giving the Queen one last small curtsy before exiting the mountain.

  Outside, the intense odor of sulfur immediately hits me. It’s such a strong smell that, for a second, I can feel it in the air. I’d read that the spice markets in India gives travelers a similar feeling, but with far more pleasant scents.

  Thankfully, my nose gets used to the smell, and I’m able to concentrate on my surroundings. We stand in a parking lot, empty except for a few black SUVs that are pulled up right next to where we exited.

  Captain Damarae opens the doors to one and motions for us to climb in while he and the other guards get in the other. Sarah and I settle into the back, with Kieran taking the bucket seat behind the driver, who turns around and offers us a smile so large it eats up half his face. The bright whites of his teeth gleam against the absolute midnight tone of his skin.

  I’ll have to tell the twins they have competition for the Colgate job.

  “Hello, madams and mister. My name is Benjamin. I will be your driver today. Please use your safety belt, because I’m afraid my Queen will take my heart if you get injured during our sojourn.” He speaks with a jovial tone and laughing eyes, but I hasten to buckle my belt because I have a feeling he’s speaking more truth than he’s letting on.

  Queen Njay had been kind to us, but I don’t think all the stories about her are false, which makes me wonder, once again, why she was so quick to help us.

  As the SUV eases into motion, I glance over at Sarah, who rests with her head against the window, watching the lush green landscape whirl by as we head toward the town. She knows more than she let on, but it’s still not the right time to demand answers, so I settle back into the seat and gaze out my own window, happy for at least this small chance to see more of St. Lucia before we have to go.

  The country is beautiful. Rich greens an
d vibrant primary colors blend together along with abundant wildlife and tall mountains. The town of Soufrière is gorgeous in and of itself. Benjamin slows the car when we enter the town and points out a few landmarks and particularly beautiful buildings. The buildings are as vibrantly painted as the landscape, the artificial colors blending in with the natural to give the feeling of joy and life.

  He talks about how the island went through a rebuild in the last decade. Apparently, only a few of the noble families live under the mountain with the Queen, her Consorts, and their Knights. The rest of the Phósopoi live in the villages and on the other islands in the Caribbean. According to our driver, the largest population is actually on the island of Barbados, but St. Lucia is still historically the Monarch’s Seat.

  I’m so fascinated by his narratives that it feels like we spend only a few minutes in the car before he pulls up to the gates of a private airfield.

  Benjamin shows the gate guard an ID, and he waves us through immediately.

  When we get through the gate, Captain Damarae’s SUV pulls up in front of us, and we follow it for a while until we reach a large, gray-stone hanger with the words Draconas, Inc. in big white lettering on the front.

  “What’s that?” I indicate the letters.

  Benjamin smiles at me through the rearview mirror. “That’s the company run by the Clovis family, the Royal family of Region Twelve.”

  “Ah.” Makes sense, since she said she was offering her private plane. I suppose the humans on the island would think it weird if the hanger was named something like Region Twelve Royal Airport.

  Benjamin pulls into the hanger and comes to a stop.

  The plane waiting for us is white with the same company name on it as on the building but with red and blue lettering. Knights in the red and blue uniform of the warrior-class line the walkway to the stairs, their eyes snapped forward. They look so rigid that I wonder for a second if any of them are breathing.

  As we climb out of our SUV, Kieran whistles, turning back to grin at me. “Pulling out all the stops, huh, Princess?”

  I frown. I don’t like the indication that this is all for me. It makes me embarrassed and, more importantly, gives more fuel to the gnawing worry about what Njay will expect in return.

  “This is where I leave you, Aporthètos, Princess-Agora, and Lord Kieran.” Captain Damarae offers a stiff bow and a slight smile.

  Sarah and I curtsy in return. Sarah bends deeper than me since my status was revealed when my cover was blown. Kieran offers a deep bow since they’re both Bonded Knights but Captain Damarae is of higher rank.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you,” I offer after the formalities, and I mean it. Captain Damarae seems to be a genuine and honorable man, a rarity among the Phósopoi.

  It’s too bad he already has a contract, most likely for life, with his Queen. I’d love the chance to steal him away if, one day, I’m settled enough to gather my own Knights. I offer him a heartfelt smile and my hand, which he takes gently, pressing a kiss on the top like in some sort of Elizabethan novel. I don’t know why I offered the hand, a symbol a friendship from a Royal to a Knight, but it felt right. The warm look in Captain Damarae’s eyes as we head up the plane stairs is proof enough.

  Soon, we’re buckled into our seats, listening to the yammer of our Phósopoi pilot, who seems more nervous about us being on board than he is about flying the plane. I snuggle into the seat, grateful for the blanket the attendant hands me. The shivers haven’t worsened, but they also haven’t stopped.

  A short while later, we’re airborne, and I’m gifted one last look at the small, green island where we left half of our group. As we disappear into the clouds, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Sarah and I had gone alone.

  As quickly as the thought comes, I push it away. I refuse to let my growing guilt at Birdie’s death drag me down. I sense more battles to come and more lives to be lost.

  I don’t know how many of my friends might be put in danger before securing a safe place for my prophesied child, but I know that this is only the beginning.

  Chapter 18

  When we finally touch down in England, I’m so tired I can barely see straight.

  Leaning against Sarah’s small but surprisingly sturdy frame, I shuffle off the plane and onto the tarmac at Farnborough airport. Kieran says this airport caters to private planes and is just southwest of London, where the guys are waiting for us. Or, should be waiting for us.

  They’ve been radio silent since we left for St. Lucia.

  I know it’s part of the plan—leave no trace and all that—but the long plane ride has only made the Bond-separation symptoms worse. The slight chill I felt before is now nearly constant and the tremors in my hands act up every few minutes. They make their way up my arms and to the tendons at the base of my neck. I don’t need Sarah’s not-so-stealthy worried glances to tell me I look like I’m coming off of something addictive. I’ve steered clear of drugs and alcohol, but many of my foster parents were junkies, so I know what it looks like.

  My feet quicken toward the only door marked with a giant Arrivals sign. The faster we get through the immigration process, the faster I can rejoin my family.

  Thankfully, people with private planes apparently warrant far less security than the peasants riding coach. We’re processed and out the main entrance faster than one could say, “Enjoy your stay.”

  I glance at Kieran, who busily flips through his passport.

  He catches me staring and grins. “I don’t leave Region One much. I’m embarrassed to say my stay in Phóspolis was the first time I’ve been abroad in nearly a century. I’m still marveling at how things have changed since then.”

  As if to prove a point, he holds up his passport, and I spy the golden harp before reading the words Ireland. Kieran must be from Northern Ireland.

  No wonder he’s marveling at the changes. “Why haven’t you left?”

  “The Royal my family serves comes from a very old family. They are pretty… traditional. It took a while for me to get permission to study at the university,” he says this easily

  While his voice has the same easy-going-smooth-as-butter tone he had the first day I met him, I can’t help but wonder if he’s bitter at me for taking him from that hard-won privilege.

  Lakshimi certainly resented me the last time I saw her.

  Before my mind can go down that particularly dark rabbit hole, he puts my worries to rest. “And I would trade that privilege for the much greater honor of following you any day, Princess. I haven’t had this much fun in decades, and that’s saying something, because I’m no stranger to a bit of fun.”

  I’m caught in those navy eyes for a moment, searching for any trace of doubt I can use for my own self-hatred, but all I find is the same good-natured twinkle that has always been there. A wave of gratitude for Kieran’s steadfast friendship and support hits me. I offer him a weak smile and reach out to take his hand, squeezing it in an unspoken acknowledgment of his loyalty. The fact that such a physical gesture seems so natural is proof enough of how much I trust him, and how far behind I’ve left my demons in the last year.

  “Sorry to interrupt your, like, bro-fest or whatever, but our ride is here.” Sarah gestures to the nervous-looking boy behind her.

  He can’t be more than thirteen-years-old. He’s tall, but the way he handles his gangly limbs betrays youth. The wide-eyed look he gives Sarah is another indication. It’s half worshipful and half fearful, like he can’t decide if he wants to follow her forever or run far away.

  I’ve seen the same look on many Phósopoi when they encounter the Aporthètos. I mentally kick myself again for not watching her in action during our last battle.

  Because you were too preoccupied with your failure to stop Birdie’s death, the back-of-my-mind snaps, sobering my inner monologue.

  My muscles tighten as I pull away from Kieran and head toward the boy, sharpening my focus on what we need to do next, which is find the guys. When I r
each the pock-marked youth, a thought occurs to me. “How did you know we would be here today?”

  The radio silence had gone both ways. There’s no way the guys could have known when our plane would land and at which hanger. Unless… I turn toward Sarah, who shakes her head. Kieran quickly does the same.

  I turn back to the kid, who shifts awkwardly under my scrutiny.

  To his credit, he tears his eyes away from Sarah and faces me directly, his voice far more confident than I expected. “Among the Wellington Knights is a seer. She’s not that powerful, but she can see the Bonded of anyone she’s in physical contact with. Kind of useless since most Omás stick together, but—”

  “We were separated, and the guys spied on us. Since when?” He flinches at my use of the word spy, but I wave it off. I don’t care that they peeped in on me. I have nothing to hide. I just want to know how much of the battle they saw, and how much they know about our interactions with Queen Njay.

  The kid glances at Sarah again, seeking her permission to answer, which irks me, but Sarah blurts out laughing, irritating me even more.

  “What?” I whirl around to ask.

  She laughs more at the expression on my face, but instead of answering my question, she addresses the kid. “I’m not the Agora in question here, dipshit. I can’t believe you think the Elite would let an Agora into their mix, or that an Agora could win the Games. Besides, you should have known the Wellington’s Bondmate is my brother.”

  I don’t know if I’m more indignant that she thinks the Agora are so weak compared to the almighty Kladí, or irritated that the messenger here thought Sarah was my guys’ Agora.

  Kieran decides for me when he questions the kid again. “How much did they see?”

  The boy turns grateful eyes on Kieran before rushing to answer the question. “I dunno much. I’m not even a fully Bonded Knight yet, but I know everyone was really pissed yesterday, and that Prince Jackson sent some of his personal Knights to Region Three.”