The door beside the archer's door looks nothing like the other doors in the dungeon. Not that the others look like cardboard constructs that are going to fall over at any moment; they're all built of thick, solid beams of wood, reinforced with metal bands along the tops and bottoms and middles of the doors, with sturdy, burnished metal locks. But this door?
This door is solid metal.
And it also looks like it has...well...dents in it. Dents along the bottom, like someone or something hurled itself into the door repeatedly, again and again, a solid metal door that—when it's opened—I realize is about five inches thick. This door creaks when it's opened, because it probably weighs a ton.
The entire room inside is not stone, but metal. There's pounded, poured metal that was probably once molten, then shaped along the wall, over and over again, poured into place and drawn along the wall to create a metal fortress within. Metal lines the ground, and in the corner is a metal bed with a thickly stuffed pad on it, and blankets.
But there is no one on the bed.
There's something in the corner.
I remember the last time that I saw the goddess Cower. She had just transformed from her enormous beast self into a small, thin woman. And that's what's sitting in the corner right now. A small, thin woman, wearing a crude dress stitched from the skins of animals, her hair jet black and matted and sticking up in all directions. Her back is to us, her legs are drawn up, and she has her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She's rocking in the corner, and she looks small, yes, but I know what she's capable of, the destruction she loves to wreak, how she wants all worlds to end. She is chaos, in and of itself, and she wants death. Death to all living things, because she is the darkest darkness.
I shiver as I stare at her slight, convex back; she curls her body forward, but Calla doesn't falter. She steps into the metal room, even though the rest of her knights lift hands, trying to stay her.
She steps past all of them.
“Cower,” says Calla, lifting her chin, her voice ringing out regally in the metal room.
Cower does not turn to look at her. But she does laugh. It's a low, mocking laugh, the kind of laugh that you hear and begin to wonder if someone is laughing at you. A soft, dark, whisper of a laugh.
“You are cursed, Calla,” she says then, and the voice that she uses sends chills through me. I suddenly have blurred vision, and the room is very dark and cold, even though it wasn't a moment ago. The other knights shift uncomfortably, and I can tell that Cower is doing something to them, but I don't know what. I shiver again, wrapping one arm through Virago's and the other across myself, across my heart, resting the fingers of my right hand on my left shoulder.
“Cursed,” Cower repeats, the word soft, sibilant, like an ill wind rushing through dead wheat in a frozen field. Everything about Cower reeks of death. “I will not rise today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after. But know this—I will rise again,” she whispers, the words echoing in the room, bouncing off the walls and coming back to us to burrow into our ears, digging tiny, sharp claws in our brains. “And when I rise again, there is no knight of this world who will vanquish me. I will be...unstoppable.”
Calla stands, poker straight, her hands clasped strongly in front of her as she stares down at the crumpled goddess. “No, Cower,” she begins, her voice as unmoving as a world itself, but Cower glances over her shoulder just then—and she's laughing. A breathy laugh, the kind a dying person makes.
“Cower will rise,” the goddess hisses. “And Calla will fall.”
Calla stands there for a long moment as Cower, with her jet black eyes, stares at the queen. Then Calla simply turns and exits the room, motioning to Brunna to shut and lock the door behind her.
“She is weak,” says Calla, her face white as she folds her arms in front of her. “Whatever will happen this day, or soon...at least it will not involve her. But the time is coming that she will rise again.” She glances around at the knights, who stand silent, patient, surrounding their queen with their love and protection. “And I pity all of us when that day comes,” she whispers.
“Milady, we will vanquish her again,” says Virago, her low voice a rumble as she gazes at Calla, brows furrowed. “We did it once—Holly did it once,” she says, proudly putting an arm around me. “Cower can be stopped, no matter what,” she murmurs firmly.
Calla shivers a little, passing a hand over her face then. “I hope so,” is all she says, glancing back at the metal door. “There is mischief afoot this night, my beloved knights,” she says, raising her arms. “Let us rely on each other. We are strong together.”
As one, the knights fold in, and they all huddle, embracing each other and the queen in one large, many-person hug. I'm part of it, too, because Virago draws me in, and on my right, I have my arm around Calla, and on my left, I'm holding tightly to Virago.
“The show,” says Calla tiredly, glancing at all of us in turn, “must go on. The Hero's Tournament must begin tonight, with the opening ceremonies. There are knights stationed everywhere, yes?” she asks Magel, and Magel nods solemnly. “Well, then,” says Calla simply, taking a step back, spreading her hands. “No matter what happens, we'll be ready, right?”
The knights roar in agreement, raising their right arms into the air, their fists pumping with energy...
But as I stand there, surrounded by the love of the knights, next to this incredible queen...I have a feeling that tonight will change everything.
Chapter 13: The Stolen Queen
Life has been a whirlwind since I arrived here on Agrotera; so much has happened in this short amount of time… I have seen unicorns, flying horses and knights; I have met and befriended a queen; and I have seen magic. I've fallen even more in love with Virago (which I didn't think was possible, but every day that I spend with her, I'm finding myself falling more deeply in love), and I feel like I've grown as a person. I've yet to lift a sword, but I've ridden on the back of a very cranky war horse, and I've made love in a completely different world...
But things are starting to unravel. Arktos is such a beautiful place. I'm beginning to think of it as a second home. But things are wrong right now, and I don't know how to fix them. The Hero's Tournament is about to start. I remember when the opening ceremonies aired for the Olympics. They were supposed to be a jubilant, exciting time, full of expectation and the magic of possibility...
But, right now, all I feel is sick with fear. Fear that something is going to happen to Calla, that something is going to happen to the knights… There's an ill wind blowing, and I can feel it deep in my bones.
And I don't know what to do about it.
Virago and I are up in our tower room, getting ready for the opening ceremonies. Shelley is asleep on the bed again (she's been sleeping a lot while here, which is typical Shelley; when faced with another world, she'd rather snore on a comfortable quilt), her tail wagging intermittently, and her paws moving in blurred motion since she's currently experiencing a dream where she's running around chasing something (I'm assuming bunnies, since she loves chasing the bunnies in the backyard at home). Virago is sitting on the edge of the bed, shining her sword, and I'm doing up the front of my bodice with cold fingers.
I bite my lip, tying the knot savagely over my chest, and that's when Virago looks up. She knows I’m unhappy.
“Something's going to happen tonight,” I tell her simply. Virago's brows are up, but when she hears what I say, she sets the sword beside her on the bed, standing smoothly.
“Yes,” she says, the word simple and full of regret. “But no matter what happens, I will keep you safe, Holly. And I will keep Calla safe.”
“But...but...” I take a few steps forward, and I wrap my arms around her neck. Her skin is hot beneath my fingers, and it's so comforting, the softness and heat of her. “But what about you?” I finally manage, gazing up into those ice blue eyes I love with all my heart. “I love you,” I tell her, pouring all the heat and desire and adoration I possess for her into those thr
ee perfect words. “I'm worried that something terrible is going to happen tonight,” I tell her, wincing, “and I...I'm worried you aren't going to be safe.”
“My beauty,” Virago whispers then, her voice dropping as she bends slowly, carefully, falling to her knees in front of me. She wraps her arms around my hips and waist, and she draws me to her so tightly, resting her head against my stomach and breasts, breathing me in. I hold her, my heartbeat thunder through every inch of my body. I can feel every place where she touches me, feel her nearness radiating through me like sunshine: the physicality and weight of her hands at my waist, of her arms around my middle, of her face pressed against me, inhaling me deeply as she sighs, then leans away, gazing up at me now as she kneels at my feet. Her eyes, so blue, so bright, hold me to the spot with a warmth and love that fills me.
“My beauty,” she repeats, her words a low, sweet growl, “do you remember when you saved me?”
I swallow, thinking of the weight of the sword in my hands, the feeling I had when the sword entered the Boston Beast...which became the goddess Cower. I thrust the sword into the creature, because if I didn't...Virago was going to die.
“Yes,” I tell her, taking a deep breath.
Virago stands smoothly, rising and moving away from me. I bite my lip as Virago crosses the room, scooping up her sword from the bed and gripping the hilt in her leather-gloved hand.
“You know,” says Virago lightly, turning back to me, “every sword is made specifically for one knight. Made for that one person alone.” She lifts the sword. “And within this hilt here is a bit of my blood and a bit of my bone, hammered into the metal.”
I stare at her as she moves easily over to me, letting the shining blade of her long sword fall to her arm and shoulder as she turns, curling her fingers around the pommel of the sword now, holding out the hilt to me.
“We do this,” she says quietly, “so that the sword will only ever respond to one person. Wolfslayer will only ever respond to me. If anyone else tries to pick it up, it is too heavy for them. It is magicked, and it is alive, in every sense of that word. When you first tried to pick it up, it was too heavy, yes?”
“I could hardly lift it. I just thought you were crazy strong,” I tell her with a soft smile.
Virago laughs, the sound of that laughter filling me. Shelley lifts up her head, and she blinks at us sleepily (probably a little miffed that we woke her from such an awesome dream about rabbits).
“Well,” says Virago, raising a brow impishly, “I am strong,” she tells me, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me easily. I sling my arms around her neck and kiss her deeply before she sets me back down with a small chuckle. “But it is magic that makes the sword so heavy. When you bested Cower with the blade...it began to know you. See? Try to lift it now.”
Virago usually keeps her sword with her, and if it's not with her, it's on the couch or in the backseat of my car. That being said, I haven’t wanted to touch it since that night with Cower, and I've had no occasion to lift it since. Here and now, I reach out, and I curl my fingers around the hilt of the blade.
And I lift it as easily from her shoulder as if I were picking up a pencil.
“Wow,” I manage to say, and Virago smiles gently at me.
“You have all of me, Holly,” she tells me then, her eyes glittering. “Even my bones and my blood respond to you, answer to you, bend to you and fall to you, because you have captured my heart.”
I gaze at her, holding the sword alongside the both of us as Virago takes a step closer, erasing the space between us.
“You called to me, across worlds,” she whispers to me. “You saved my life from a goddess. You and I are together, because we are as meant to be as stars and worlds.” She wraps her fingers around my waist, and I feel the solidity of her, the strength of her, as she holds me gently. “Whatever happens this night, I know the Goddess watches over us—not a goddess like Cower,” says Virago, shaking her head as my brow furrows, “but the Goddess who drew us together. She who made all.”
I lick my lips. “Virago,” I tell her, shaking my head then, “I'm not really religious. I don't know if I believe in any sort of greater power bringing us together...”
She smiles softly, cupping my chin with her hand. “Belief in something doesn't make it true or false. I believe in us, and I believe the Goddess brought us together,” she murmurs, her eyes flashing with a bright fire. “You don't have to believe, my love,” she tells me gently. “Because how it happened is not so important as the fact that it did happen. We are together. But I believe,” she tells me, her voice strong, “that we will be all right. That I am not meant to leave you now. That we are meant to have a long, happy life together. Do you trust me?” she whispers.
I look up into her eyes, and I know that I trust her; I trust her with everything that I am or yet could be.
“Yes,” I tell her, the power of the universe in that one syllable.
“I love you,” Virago tells me, holding me close, her sword beside us, held up in my hand, the blade glittering in the half-light of the room as Virago bends low, giving me one last, sweet kiss.
There's a knock at the door, and when I cross the room to open it, Kell stands in the hallway, looking regal (she might have actually put a brush through her hair) and very serious.
“Okay, ladies,” says Kell, lifting her chin. “It's showtime.”
---
If I thought the banquet hall was crowded before, I had obviously never seen it stuffed to capacity.
Like it is now.
Everyone stands, packed shoulder to shoulder, talking and laughing. It's completely deafening down here, which is why I'm grateful that we move through the banquet hall pretty quickly. I see people from many different countries, like those from Lumina, in their crystal armor, and the knights from Furo in their black armor, standing around scowling. The knights usher Calla through the crowd toward the hallway on the far side of the massive room.
But as we're walking through the room, I bump into a lot of people, of course, because everyone is drinking Magin, and it makes you less aware of your surroundings. Nearly every person that I glance at is carrying a goblet with the precious liquid spilling down the sides of their cups, sloshing over the edges and sprinkling on pretty much everyone. The scent of citrus and chocolate is thick in the air, and everyone already looks like they're partying heartily.
We weave through the press of people, and then Calla stops just a little bit ahead to talk to someone.
I peek around Virago's shoulder and smile: it's the woman from the tea shop, Isabella.
Calla embraces Isabella, because she's just that sort of person, but when Calla pulls back from the woman, Isabella stays her, whispering something into her ear. Calla's face clouds, and she nods once, glancing back to see that the rest of her knights are around her—and then she continues on.
When I move forward, I wave a small hello to Isabella, but she stops me, too.
“Just be careful today, all right?” she says, her eyes a little cloudy, as if she's looking at something that's almost too small to see. “I have a feeling...” she starts, but then she shakes her head. “Just be careful.”
I swallow, then nod, following after the knights.
I want to ask Calla why we're even doing this, why she’s present for the opening ceremonies when there is a threat to her life, but I already know why. I know that Arktos was chosen to be the host for the Hero's Tournament, and I know that there are so many people here who are from the neighboring countries of Arktos, dignitaries that will see, in a moment, whether Arktos is weak. Arktos is not weak, and Calla is not weak, and she's working very hard to show the entire world that Furo doesn't concern her, that King Charix does not frighten her, that these assassination attempts mean nothing, and that she is strong.
And we have to let her do that. Or, like she said, Furo will have already won.
Once we are past the crowd and through the wide, double doors leading into the hall
way beyond, Kell shuts the doors behind us, and that closes out a lot of the noise.
Here in the hallway, it's almost quiet. The knights stand close to Calla. There isn’t a big group here with us—just Alinor, Magel, Kell, Virago, Calla, and me—along with Charaxus, who stands off from the knights with her arms folded in front of her. But she doesn't have the typical scowl on her face. No, this time there's something different about her expression, something that worries me.
She looks worried. Charaxus.
I lick my lips nervously, stepping away from Virago.
And I approach Charaxus.
I know she's the vice queen, and, technically, she's almost as powerful as Calla. That means that she's different from the other knights, and that power dynamic is very real in a magical world where knights serve a queen. But, at the same time, I've watched how the knights interact with Charaxus. It's obvious that they adore Calla. They love her deeply and would die for her, pledging their lives to her out of genuine affection. But Charaxus?
I'm fairly certain the knights hate her.
It's not just Virago, though Virago and Charaxus apparently have had a rivalry going on since knight school. No, it's everyone. I have a theory that it's because the knights are loyal to each other, so if there's a person that one knight doesn't like or has a conflict with, then the other knights will back their sister up. Loyalty is important, and so is honor...
But I've seen how much of an outsider Charaxus is. And it hurts to witness it.
I don't think it bothers her that much; she's a very self-efficient kind of person. And, yes, I know, I overheard her talking to her brother Charix about possibly handing over the queen… There are a lot of reasons I shouldn't like Charaxus (she did, after all, hate me on sight for being the girlfriend of her arch rival), but I'm deeply hardwired to remember what it was like to be an outsider.
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