Everything seems to shift into slow motion, because Virago has remained on her horse, and I remain on the horse, too, holding tightly to Virago as Aphelion rears up, striking the air with her hooves. I can feel myself slipping off Aphelion’s shiny rump. She’s a huge horse, so if I fall now, I'm going to drop a long way down to the ground. I try to hold on, but there are a ton of people shouting, and there's the sound of something swooshing through the air.
In a second, it's all over, because there's a loud thwack as an arrow hits the flag post closest to Calla, the post that’s carrying the now-familiar blue and gold pennant of Arktos City. The attacker wasn’t aiming at Calla, after all, but the message was communicated loud and clear: they could have killed Calla if they wanted to.
The arrow vibrates in place for a long moment, and there are already knights headed toward the building where the archer was positioned, but he or she is no longer visible when I shield my eyes against the glare of the sun and stare upwards at the rooftop.
Magel dismounts her horse and strides over to the arrow, drawing it out from the post with a vicious yank.
“There's a note attached, milady,” she says with disgust. I've never seen Magel so upset, but it's a cold, calculated anger. If there is a person still standing on that roof when the knights get up to it, the archer stands no chance.
“I will examine the note later,” Magel is saying, but Calla, very pale, is sitting with her back poker straight on her mare, Kell sliding over the horse's rear to stand again on the ground.
“Read it now, Magel,” says Calla, her voice soft and quiet.
“Milady,” Magel begins, but Calla simply looks at her, and Magel sighs for a long moment, then unrolls the thin bit of parchment that was attached to the arrow’s shaft.
The crowd around us has hushed, but a murmur starts up now, a low one, thick with worry and fear.
Magel glances down at the note, and then her mouth falls open. She looks up at her queen with beseeching brown eyes, but Calla nods.
“The note, my knight,” she says, and there is weariness in her voice.
Magel clears her throat. She holds up the piece of paper. She says, in a steady voice that shakes, only at the end, “Cower will rise. Calla shall fall.”
Chapter 12: Fire and Ice
Virago's eyes are a steel blue, a dark blue, a rage-filled blue.
“I will kill him,” she says simply. And, in that moment, I know she means it with every fiber of her being.
“We do not know that King Charix had anything to do with this. Officially. To go after him now would jeopardize our entire country,” Kell snaps, unceasing in her frenetic pacing across the library floor. Back and forth, back and forth she paces, while the rest of the knights stand around tensely, all of them watching their queen, who sits in the center on one of her plush library chairs, holding the thin parchment threat in her pale hands.
“If the archer wanted her dead, she would have made certain it happened,” says Magel tiredly, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. “She wanted to frighten the queen. But, most importantly, she wanted to do so in front of all of the people of Arktos, so that they would think the queen is weak. They wanted Calla to appear weak.”
“But she is not weak,” snarls Kell, turning to look at Calla now. “Milady,” she says beseechingly, her rage evaporating (or, at least, she's hiding it) as she kneels down in front of Calla. “Are you all right?” she asks tentatively. “You have not said a word since the note was read.”
Calla glances at Kell now, her blue eyes almost colorless. She was gazing at the note for the longest time, but she didn't look like she was even really seeing it. “Where is the archer now?” she asks, and her words sound so tired.
“In the dungeon,” says Magel, her arms crossed in front of her. “I am going to interrogate her shortly.”
Calla shakes her head, rolling her shoulders back. “Do not harm her.”
The other knights stare at their queen. “Your Majesty?” asks Magel quietly.
Calla rises, lifting her chin. “I want to see her.”
“My queen, no,” says Kell, rising too quickly, a storm brewing over her features. “The opening ceremonies for the Hero's Tournament are at sundown,” she says, pointing out one of the open windows in the library where the sun is descending low along the horizon. “We don't have much time to—”
“To break the archer?” asks Calla, lifting a single brow. “To inflict enough pain to retrieve the information you need to keep me safe?”
“Frankly, Your Majesty, yes,” says Magel, her jaw tense. “You are our top priority,” she says, spreading her hands, her words soft, soothing, “and that archer could have killed you. We must ascertain where she came from, who she is in league with, and who precisely wants you dead, or you will still be in jeopardy—”
“And I will die,” says Calla solemnly, her eyes glittering. “Is that what you were going to say, Magel?” she asks, her voice soft, dignified.
Magel shifts uncomfortably. “Calla,” she says then, her words soft. “It is our sworn duty to protect you, and to protect all of Arktos. You can't die.”
Calla folds her hands in front of her, her chin lifted. “I have made peace with the Goddess,” she says then, drawing herself up to her full height. “If I die, Charaxus takes over, and I know she can lead the country as well as I could.”
“You can't be reckless,” Kell begins, but Calla turns, and a single glance from the queen silences her.
“To protect me, you are all reckless,” says Calla gently. “I will not have someone hurt because of me, even if she is an enemy. These are dangerous times to be queen, my friends,” she says, looking around at all of the knights with genuine affection, her face softened now. “I accept that, and I have made peace with it. The opening ceremonies must go on, and I am the queen of Arktos,” she says, spreading her hands and bowing her head, “and I have my duties to the Hero's Tournament. It has been an honor and a privilege to be your queen,” she says, glancing at every knight in turn. “I hope you know how much I have loved all of you,” she finishes, her voice quiet, small.
“You are saying goodbye,” says Magel flatly.
“I am being realistic,” says Calla firmly. “As I was realistic that something might happen during the procession this day. If anyone is going to make a move, it's going to be during the opening ceremonies, when every citizen of Arktos is there to see it, when so many people from neighboring countries will be there as witnesses.”
“But we will keep you safe,” Kell says, her voice adamant, her hands curled into fists.
“I have no doubts in any of you,” says Calla, shaking her head. “You are my knights, and you are fearless. But there is darkness afoot,” she says, her voice dropping low, “if Cower is involved. And I cannot predict what will happen now.”
I finger the edges of my sleeves, my stomach tying itself into knots. Virago stands beside me, her arms crossed in front of her, her jaw hard as she watches the queen, eyes glittering. Our arms touch, and the warmth of her, emanating through the leather and armor, is comforting to me.
“Now, please,” says Calla, sighing. “Show me the archer. And,” she says, a single brow raised, “I want to see Cower.”
The knights glance among themselves, but they can't argue with a queen who has already made up her mind.
I don't know how much time we have until the opening ceremonies, but it doesn't matter. We have enough time to get down to the dungeons, to see the woman who threatened the queen. And to see Cower.
But at the very thought of again seeing the goddess who turned into a beast, a beast who tried to destroy everything near and dear to me, my stomach twists into even tighter knots, knots that I can’t begin to undo. Virago glances sidelong at me as the knights assemble, falling into a line, and we all get ready to leave the library.
“Are you all right with going to see Cower?” she asks me, holding my gaze. “Because you do not have to go, my love,” she tell
s me, voice soft. “There is no reason that you should—”
“Yeah,” I tell her, shaking, “I can handle it. She's powerless now, right?” I ask, licking my lips and trying to calm my erratic heartbeat.
“Powerless,” Virago repeats, nodding. “She can do no harm, and she cannot touch any one of us. She is locked away forever.”
I swallow, remembering Virago's stories about what Cower accomplished when she was loose and a powerful goddess. She destroyed so very many people, so many places...so much life. And now it's difficult to imagine that someone, once so powerful, could be felled by someone...well, like me. I never wielded a sword in my life, and I know that I had complete dumb luck, but I managed to vanquish a goddess. So I’m guessing that she...probably doesn't like me very much. And that's putting it mildly.
“Let's...go,” I tell her, gesturing forward.
During all of these proceedings, Charaxus has stood silently by, watching the queen intently. Her eyes are narrowed, and her cheeks are pale, but then aren't her eyes always narrowed, and isn't she perpetually pale? Still, there's something about the way that Charaxus is looking at Calla now. She’s gazing at the queen with such softness, such kindness…
Such love.
“Hey,” I whisper, tugging on Virago's elbow and drawing my knight aside. “What happened with what I told you? About Charaxus and Charix?”
Virago shifts her gaze to Charaxus, standing quietly beside the other knights, but definitely separate from them. And Virago bends down to me, putting her mouth by my ear, her warm lips brushing against my skin.
“It is no small thing to accuse the vice queen of treason,” she tells me softly, “but the knights and I are watching her relentlessly. Do not worry, my love. She will not pull anything on my watch,” she says, her eyes flashing dangerously.
I take a deep breath, feeling sick to my stomach. I glance sidelong at Charaxus now, taking in how she's gazing at the queen, her eyes fond. The only time she softens at all is when she looks at Calla. I glance back up at Virago. “I just don't think she's capable of—” I begin, but Calla is stepping forward, leading the procession now, and Kell look at us, her brows up.
“Come on, kids,” she says. “Time to go visit a goddess.”
The library is at the summit of the palace, so I'm assuming we would have a long way to walk to get down to the dungeons—but not so. Joy, head seamstress, tailor and all-around awesome lady, is waiting for us outside the library, leaning against the wall and looking cool. That's really the best way I could describe Joy on any given day.
“You summoned me, milady?” asks Joy, pushing off from the wall and smiling brightly at the queen.
“Yes, Joy, thank you for coming,” says Calla, lifting her chin. “Can you please transport the lot of us down to the dungeons?”
Joy blanches a little at that. “But, milady,” she says, shaking her head, “what about the protections in place on the dungeon? Only two knights are allowed down there without you. You alone are the key to the dungeons. I can't just transport us in—”
“If I am the key,” says Calla, spreading her hands, “then you can transport us if you're with me, yes?”
Joy thinks about it for a moment, then nods.
“Are you sure that’s where you want to go?” she whispers, and Calla nods, too. And then, tight-lipped, Joy glances at Magel to see what she has to say about the matter. Magel shrugs, just a little, and then Joy is stepping forward, holding out her hand.
“Everyone, hold on tight,” she mutters, and then we all link hands as reality blurs around us, and we're instantly plunged into darkness.
Well, no—that's not exactly true. It's much darker than the well-lit halls in the upper towers of the palace, but it's not pitch black. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness, and I notice the orbs hanging suspended in the air along the walls, glass spheres full of dim light.
When I imagine a “dungeon,” I'm not ashamed to admit that my mind goes to a Monty Python sketch or two, or a medieval torture chamber, so my assumptions are pretty skewed. Still, I don't think I could have ever imagined this very stone floor, clean stone walls and ceiling. There's no dripping water or dank smell; everything is very neat and dry. And there's not a bit of dust or dirt anywhere. It shouldn't surprise me—I've seen the rest of the palace, after all—but it's nice to know that even the dungeons are well maintained in Arktos.
When we near the cells, I'm trying to keep my breathing steady, but my erratic heartbeat is kind of out of control. My palms are clammy, my vision is starting to tunnel, that I almost fail to notice that there are only six dungeon cells here, each one of them meticulously kept. They are positioned off of the main dungeon chamber, where there's a desk and chair and a very bored-looking knight with her feet up on the table, a leather-bound book in her hand, and a steaming cup of tea on the table in front of her.
“Milady!” she yelps, jumping up to her feet immediately, her book falling to the floor, but Calla raises a hand.
“Don't worry yourself, Brunna,” she says with a small smile, though she still looks very pale. “I am here to see the new arrival.”
“The archer? She's here,” says Brunna, stepping around the edge of her wooden desk to fish her keyring off of her belt. “She won't say anything, milady,” says the knight, but Calla nods tightly, and Brunna steps forward, placing the key in the lock.
The door opens without a single creak (seriously, the knights keep the dungeon doors oiled? I thought it was a prerequisite for dungeons to at least have creaky hinges), and Calla, Magel and Kell step into the room. I can just see around Magel's curves that there is a woman sitting on a sturdy wooden chair in the corner, her back to the wall, her arms crossed in front of her. She's wearing a cloak, but the hood is pulled down from her face, and she's scowling. She has extremely pale skin and long black hair that falls in waves over her shoulders.
I glance sidelong at Charix. I know I haven't seen everyone who hails from Furo, but they seem to have several things in common. They're all the palest people I've ever seen, and every single one of them has black hair. Granted, I've only seen the knights that King Charix brought with him, Charix himself and Charaxus...but they all have a certain look to them.
And this woman, sitting in the cell, staring at the queen sullenly?
She's wearing black armor beneath her black cloak. And she has similar features to the others from Furo.
I swallow a little, glancing at Virago. Virago didn't get a chance to see this woman before, on the city streets, and she's paling now as she stares at the stranger sitting in the cell. Virago fists her hands, her shoulders rising with tension as she stares; her lips curl up over her teeth in a snarl.
My heart is hammering against my ribs as I reach out and place a calming hand on Virago's arm.
This isn’t good.
“Do you know me?” Calla asks simply, clasping her hands over her belly. The woman looks up from her position on the chair, and she narrows her eyes even further. But she doesn't say a thing. Instead, she sneers and spits. The spittle flies through the air and lands on the stones at Calla's feet.
Magel takes a single step forward, her hand raised to hit the woman across the mouth, her face cold and callous, but Calla stays her, reaching out and placing her palm on Magel's arm.
“Then you know me,” says Calla, her voice tight. “Who sent you, archer? Who do you owe allegiance to?”
The archer does nothing, only crosses her legs in front of her, tapping her toes in the air, her head tilted to the side, a sarcastic smile lighting up her features.
“I am prepared to die, of course,” the woman says then, her voice lightly accented, though I have no accent to compare it to. Maybe something slightly British. “But me and mine have no fear. Your time is over, Calla,” she says, enunciating the name with a smirk. “And I hope when you die that you—”
“Enough,” growls Charaxus, and the floor beneath us, made of firm stone, begins to shake. I grip Virago's arm tightly, b
ecause if I didn't, I'd be falling to the ground. I don’t know how the knights withstand it, but they do, bracing themselves upright, their legs wide apart, to ride the shock wave of reverberation that rolls through the dungeons.
The woman stares at Charaxus, her eyes wide...but she doesn't say another word.
Charaxus' hands are curled into tight fists, the leather of her gloves creaking as her fingers press against her palms, her shoulders leaning forward. Waves of energy seem to be shimmering over her entire body, radiating outward.
“Tell the queen who you owe your allegiance to,” commands the rather terrifying Charaxus in a deathly whisper.
The woman lifts her chin, and her eyes flash defiantly, but Charaxus takes a single step forward.
“Cower,” says the woman then, lifting her chin, her eyes shifting to the wall to her right. “The goddess you so piggishly cast down here in the bowels of the earth. But you forget, stupid queen,” she says, her lips curling over her teeth, “that Cower rose from the ground before. And she will again.”
“Enough,” says Calla this time, shaking her head and turning to leave the room. “Keep her down here until I've decided what must be done with her,” says Calla to the guard at the desk, Brunna. “And, if you'd be so kind,” she says, her jaw tensing, “open the door to Cower's chamber.”
Brunna pales at that, shaking her head slowly, then more adamantly. “Milady, you gave me strict orders to never let a living soul into that room, and that included you,” she says miserably, as if she already knows how this argument is going to end.
Calla shakes her head. “Desperate times, my dear Brunna, call for desperate measures,” she says softly. “Please open the door for me.”
Her hands shaking so hard that she drops the keys twice, Brunna locks the cell door of the archer, once the other knights have left it, and then she unlocks the door to the right.
Date Knight Page 23