by Jayne Faith
His blue-green eyes reflected the same torrent of feeling, and it filled me with new resolve.
Somehow, I would emerge the winner of the Tournament.
*
When my guards returned me to my room, I curled up on the bed and closed my eyes, replaying the images of the garden and of Lord Toric to cement them into my memory.
I tried to imagine what it must have been like for him, taken from his family at such a tender age. I couldn’t help wondering how he’d returned home. Had Calisto made a bargain with the enemy, some sort of trade? Or perhaps the Calistan military had rescued him?
I could see in his eyes that the wounds were deep—that shadow that always lurked there behind his eyes—but at the same time it seemed he’d found some measure of peace. It was curious how one person could carry both peace and pain simultaneously. What had it taken for him to reach a point where there was enough peace to allow him to carry on through the pain? I truly wanted to know, but some things seemed too personal to probe.
A soft rustle at the door drew my attention. I bolted up, my heart jumping up my throat. But it wasn’t a visitor; it was the sound of an envelope sliding under the door. I went to fetch it, thinking of Lord Toric. But he would have sent me a message by tablet, surely, not a note scrawled on paper.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I opened the envelope and pulled out a few folded pages. When I opened them and recognized my mother’s handwriting, I drew a sharp breath and tears began to pool in my lower lids. I impatiently swiped at my eyes, not wanting tears to fall on the pages and smear the ink.
I’d nearly forgotten that I could receive letters from home. I quickly shuffled through the pages. After Mother’s letter was a single page written in a male hand I didn’t recognize. Rand’s name was signed at the bottom. Following it I found several typed ones that were from Lana.
I went back to the top page and began reading Mother’s letter.
My dear, sweet daughter,
There are so many questions I want to ask you, but I know that you can’t respond, so I will spare you the long list. Lana and I heard of the casualties from the first competition of the Tournament, and although we were saddened for the families of the Obligates who perished, we spent an hour in grateful prayer that the list didn’t contain your name.
Lana is back at work, and your friends and coworkers have been so incredibly kind in assisting her. Rand most of all. He has taken charge of organizing Lana’s collection every day. Although we can’t offer much in the way of thanks, I’ve been sending a pie or cake or some other baked treat to his family every weekend. . .
Mother went on to describe Belinda’s funeral, which she and Lana had attended the day after my departure from Earthenfell.
I looked up for a moment, staring at nothing. If not for Belinda’s death, caused by the venomous snakebite that had killed her the morning of the Selection, I would have never been forced to come to Calisto. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but snake bites were rare that time of year. The reptiles slowed and hid more as fall approached winter. The months of spring and summer were the times snakes came out in the foothills. What had Belinda been doing to put herself in the way of a venomous snake?
I drew a heavy breath. Such terrible luck, but mulling over the how and why wouldn’t change my current predicament.
Mother reported that several neighbors had brought dinner to her and Lana in the few days after I left. But as after every Selection, things quickly returned to normal. The community never dwelled long on the loss of sixteen sons and daughters each spring and fall. It was the way of things, and it always had been.
She also said that as I’d requested, she and Lana had been to visit Orion’s parents. They’d enjoyed each other’s company enough to plan to eat dinner together every Sunday evening, alternating hosting duties back and forth between the two houses. A comforting warmth expanded around my heart at the thought of my family and Orion’s keeping each other company and perhaps finding some solace in each other.
When I reached the end of Mother’s letter, I realized she hadn’t mentioned the one thing I was most concerned about with her—how her health was faring, and whether she’d had another flare up. I wasn’t sure if the omission of that information was a good or bad sign.
Next was the short message from Rand.
I knew that you would survive the first round of the tournament. I never had any doubt. I’m equally sure that you will win because I know that we are destined to be reunited. I love you, and I will never love another.
We WILL be together.
Rand
I read it again, my eyes snagging on the word “will” in the final sentence, which was written with such pressure of the pen that the tail end of the underline had torn through the paper just a bit. I recalled the vague unease I’d felt when Rand and I had parted after the Fete, and how despite my best intentions our last words had lacked the closure I’d been striving for. I’d told Rand to move on, to get over me and look ahead to all the life he had yet to live. He’d refused to acknowledge that course of action.
I shoved his letter to the back of the pile. He’d probably written it just after my departure, when his feelings were still raw. In time his feelings would fade and his affections for some other young woman would grow. There was no way for us to ever be together, and it was odd and almost childish for him to say otherwise.
I flipped to Lana’s letter, composed using the old typewriter we’d found for her many years back for doing her school assignments. A wisp of a smile twitched my lips as I remembered the click-clack of the keys under her fingers. That sound had been my constant soundtrack during school day afternoons as I sat at the kitchen table across from Lana and worked through my own assignments, pausing every so often to read to her the next problem or some instructions.
Dear Maya,
Because I do not know when you will receive this letter, I feel I should wish you a happy 20th birthday and hope that you’re reading this near (or even on!) the day. I’m trying not to think about having a birthday without you. Frankly, it just doesn’t make any sense. We came into the world together, and it could never be just my birthday—it is OUR birthday.
I paused reading to set the letter aside and wipe at my eyes with the hem of my dress. Our birthday. I’d forgotten about that too. I’d left Earthenfell eight days before Lana and I were to turn twenty. A mix of bitterness and homesickness washed over me, and I lowered my face to my hands as my chest hitched with quiet sobs.
It was our last Selection. I was supposed to be free, not forced from my home and family and thrown into a deadly competition.
Resentment began to lace through my sadness, and I remembered how I’d felt just before I’d left. I recalled Lana, her face twisted with grief and her voice trembling as she said she hated the Calistans and Lord Toric for taking me away.
Somewhere in the midst of the stress of the Tournament, the disorientation of being in a new place among an alien race, the drama of my abduction, and the rush of Lord Toric’s attention, I’d somehow forgotten my anger. Perhaps it was best that I had, but as I sat with Lana’s letter in my hands, it surged again.
The Calistans weren’t our friends. They were our protectors, but it wasn’t even that they were protecting Earthens. They wanted our home—Earthenfell. My Tournament guide, Iris, had as much as told me that Calistans considered Earthens the keepers of Earthenfell, sort of slave-stewards of the land until the alien overlords could return and make Earthenfell their home.
Chilly fingers crept up my spine. And what would happen to Earthens if Lord Toric did indeed lead the Return to Earthenfell?
I’d always assumed that Earthens would be allowed to continue on as they had for centuries. But would the Calistans really allow that? Would they even need Earthens after the Return?
With my mouth dry and my mind distracted, I returned to my sister’s letter. When I reached the end, I realized Lana must have written it before I’d spoken with her through t
he portal because she made no mention of it. Or perhaps if she’d written the letter after, she sensed that it was something best kept undisclosed.
Worry spiked through me. I had to assume that the overlords were screening the letters that were sent from Earthenfell. I could only hope she was cautious enough to continue to keep our meeting secret.
And a new dread encased my heart. Lord Toric had told me that the Calistans had scored huge wins against their enemies recently. But what would happen to my people if the Calistans were victorious?
3
Toric
MY HEART STILL thrummed, buzzing with the pleasure that Maya’s presence always brought to me, when I reached my mother’s private receiving room.
She’d had a small table made up for dining, and the rich aroma of marinated, roasted meat met my nose as soon as I entered.
“We so rarely get to speak alone. I thought we might as well make a meal of it,” she said as I bent to kiss her cheek.
For a moment, the spicy scent of the ginger lily perfume she always wore cut through the smells of food and took me back to when I was a small boy, when I used to sit on her lap as she read through forum proceedings and war reports at her desk.
She turned to the table, lifted two goblets, and handed me one. “And we have something to toast this evening. Akantha and Jeric were just here to ask my blessing for their engagement. They said you’d already given your approval.”
“Ah yes,” I said, hiding my surprise. For some reason I hadn’t expected Akantha to move quite so quickly. I examine my mother’s face without being too obvious about it, trying to discern whether or not she truly approved of the engagement. Her lips wore a polite smile, but something in her eyes hardened. “So you see Akantha as a suitable match for Jeric?”
She tilted her head, her eyes sliding off to one corner of the room. “Well, it’s true that Akantha is not noble-born. But she is very ambitious and has obviously put a great amount of energy into improving her own station in life. She’s a very strong woman, and that’s just what Jeric needs.”
Everything my mother said was true, but I couldn’t help feeling there was more she held back.
She gave me a scrutinizing look over the rim of her goblet as she sipped. “Do you wish for someone different for your brother, my son?”
The corners of my mouth twitched, trying to pull down into a frown, and I returned my mother’s look with a hard one of my own. “It’s no secret that Akantha and I have no fondness for each other. We often butt heads over the official matters of the Tournament. But when she starts having children, she’ll have to retire her position as Mistress of Tournament, and she’ll be quite busy with domestic concerns.”
No point in mentioning Akantha’s vendetta against Maya, as I knew Mother would feel no sympathy and it would only draw more attention to my involvement with Maya.
Mother moved toward one chair at the dining table, and I went to pull it out for her and wait while she shifted a bit, rearranging the folds of her gown so I could push the chair in without catching it on her dress. I settled on the seat opposite hers.
“Yes, and I imagine that children will substantially soften her disposition,” she said. “You and your brother and sister certainly did that for me.”
I couldn’t help lifting a brow at that. My mother had never been overly warm or affectionate with us.
“Well then, let us hope it happens as soon as possible,” I said. I aimed for a good-natured tone, but my suspicion was piqued by the growing sensation that mother was hiding something. Perhaps she and Akantha had schemed this engagement together? But if so, why?
I signed internally. These maneuverings—secrets and intrigue and jockeying for power—were part of royal life but had never held much interest for me. My abduction and imprisonment where enough drama to last me ten lifetimes. My mother, on the other hand, had always seemed to relish the social spectacle of palace life.
“It could be soon,” Mother said, passing me a plate of herbed roasted vegetables. “After all, they’re announcing tomorrow, so they’re obviously wasting no time.”
She said it as if I should already know it, but I nearly dropped the serving spoon. Tomorrow? So Akantha was in a hurry. It only doubled my uneasiness over the whole affair.
“I haven’t reviewed tomorrow’s schedule since earlier this afternoon,” I said. “But I didn’t see the engagement announcement on it.”
“I’m sure they wanted to wait to speak to me first. It’ll only take you a moment to recite a few lines for the news broadcasts. Just a formality.” She peered at me as she chewed for a moment. “Does this upset you, Toric?”
“No, no, it just seems rather . . . sudden.” I attacked the slice of roast on my plate, sawing off a generous bite and popping it into my mouth as if I were a starving man, when in fact my appetite had fled completely.
“You know, it will not be long before you will choose a wife for yourself.”
I choked a little, but my coughing gave me a moment to compose myself. Why did she feel compelled to speak of so many unpleasant things? It was a pointed reminder of why I usually avoided long stretches of time alone with my mother.
“Although,” she continued, “it’s possible that will not be necessary.” She leaned closer, and her voice fell to a reverent near-whisper. “Did you ever truly imagine it? The Return?”
“I’ve prayed for it every day, of course, but so has every Lord before me.”
My stomach knotted at the way she looked at me but did not seem to truly see me, at the way her eyes took on a fanatic gleam.
I managed to steer the conversation to lighter topics, but the hard knot in my stomach remained long after I left my mother’s chambers.
*
Very early the next morning, I dressed in white linen pants and a tunic, with a navy silk sash emblazoned with the silver circular Lord’s seal over one shoulder and secured on the diagonal at my hip. Victor clipped the iron bands around my ankles and wrists and placed the crown of two intertwined metal bands made of iron and copper upon my head.
The official garb was required for recording my announcement of Jeric and Akantha’s engagement, which would air with the morning announcements.
At the broadcast station, located in the press and media wing of the palace, the producer of the daily announcements arrived at my dressing room to give me the script. I quickly read through it, my jaw clenching as I tried to hide my displeasure.
I’d awoken many times in the night with a hard ball of dread sitting in my middle. I’d had to take Akantha’s deal to save Maya, but with every passing minute, I grew more paranoid that by doing so I’d also set in motion something unknown and dangerous.
I sat under bright lights and read the announcement four times, and the producer seemed satisfied that at least one of the takes was usable. As my two guards stepped forward to accompany me to my next appointment, I happened to glance at a nearby desk where a production assistant was flipping through photos on a monitor. They were all of Jeric and Akantha, obviously the collection of their engagement photos.
It struck me that there was a very good possibility those photos were taken quite some time before Akantha had secured my buy-in of the engagement.
Something kept prickling through my mind, a feeling of strong trepidation and the sense that there was a connection between the engagement, the Tournament, Maya, and all the events indicating we were drawing near to a momentous turn of events for all of Calisto.
It was time to speak with High Priestess Lunaria.
4
High Priestess Lunaria
ALONE IN MY private office, I pulled the secret volume of the sacred text from the safe concealed behind a portrait mounted on hinges. It was a painting of the previous occupant of this office: High Priestess Atria, a serious woman with piercing pale gray eyes. Had she been alive when her successor was chosen, I very much doubted I would have ended up in the office of High Priestess. High Priestess Atria and I had rarely agreed on a
nything, and she likely would have given her support to one of my opponents. Even with her gone—her premature death caused by a massive stroke—I had been elected High Priestess by only the narrowest possible margin.
Holding the secret volume in both hands, I stood for a moment, simply feeling its substance and weight. Ever since it had arrived, there was a little twinge in my head, a paranoid little tickle, that the volume would disappear as suddenly as it had come into my possession. It was the first thing I thought of upon rising and the last thing to cross my mind before sleep—a constant worry that I’d open the safe and the book simply would not be there.
It was a preoccupation that bordered on compulsion, the need to open the safe if only for a quick glance and a light brush of my fingers over the cover. To make sure it was real. To make sure I wasn’t losing my mind.
I sat down at the Earthen-made mahogany desk, a beautiful, old piece that I could never bring myself to think of as mine. It belonged to the position of the High Priestess of the Temple of the Mother Earth, not to any individual woman who bore the title. Glancing up at my closed office door, I resisted the urge to check for a third time that it was locked.
With gentle—almost loving—movements of my faintly trembling fingers, I lifted the front cover and turned the pages to where I’d left off the previous day. As with the first nine volumes—the known sacred texts—this volume was bound in leather. The leather was smooth, the corners still sharp, unlike the original volumes that were worn with the touch of many Priestess hands.
I was re-reading the section titled “The Sacred Sequence,” which outlined with some specificity the events that would have to occur in order for my people to reclaim Earthenfell as our rightful home. My breath came a bit faster as I adjusted my focus in the way all Priestesses of the Temple were taught, which allowed us to read sacred words.