by A J Gala
“Okay!” Isa was scarlet, and by then, Athen was too. “Thanks, Djara!” She hugged her friend and then skipped away with the queen’s Right Hand.
Djara put her hands on her hips and looked down at Alor and Mariette. “Can you believe them? They’re so dumb I can hardly stand it. It’s adorable.”
“Gross,” Alor said. “It’s like Ro and Raph.”
Djara laughed. “Gross? What’s so gross about it? Little kids are so weird.”
“It’s gross when Ro puts her face on Raph’s face! She likes string beans. I would never let someone who eats string beans put their face on my face!”
Mariette had never looked so offended. “You don’t like string beans?”
“No!”
Djara led them away and down the hall to the kitchen, listening to them squabble about string beans and the absurd way Alor said the elves prepared them in Sila’Karia. But Mariette watched Djara carefully, noting her silence, staring up at her. She reached for the older girl’s hand.
“You don’t think it’s gross. But you don’t like it, either.”
Djara looked down at her and chuckled. “What, string beans?”
“Love.”
Djara sighed, not realizing her brown cheeks had turned rosy. “Bad things happen to people who fall in love, Mariette. Ma says it’s a part of life—bad things and falling in love—but I don’t know. The worst thing I’ve ever heard of for a person who wasn’t in love was that they were lonely. Doesn’t seem so bad when you compare it to everything else.” The kitchen was empty; there wasn’t a soul in sight. “My parents. Your parents. It’s scary. I think I’d rather be lonely.”
Mariette wandered over to the smoldering chunks of wood in the hearth and watched the bright glow in the cracks. “It makes your mom sad. But she’s happy too. She thinks you’re smart.”
“What do you know about what my ma thinks?”
Once, the people in the fire had been Gavin and Ravina. “I heard her. I hear a lot of things.”
“You do, huh?” Djara spotted a butt of bread, but it was hard as a brick. But there was also a kettle that had been moved away from the fire. “You know a lot of things that you shouldn’t, don’t you?”
“I do.”
Inside the kettle was the beginning of a soup or stew, but it hadn’t gone much past the stage of onions and a satchel of chicken bones. Whoever was cooking had taken it off the heat to wait for more ingredients. Djara dipped a piece of the bread to try it.
“You know where everyone’s at, don’t you?” It was palatable.
“I used to. Before he came. The people in the fire showed him to me.” She took a piece of soggy bread from Djara. “But then he left, and I don’t see the same things anymore. I don’t know what the new things mean. There’s too many people.”
“Before who came?” Djara dipped the remainder of the bread and handed it to Alor.
“The man in the black cloak. I know what he’s going to do. I saw what he saw. They’re all going to see something.” She smiled. “Even the man with three ears.”
Djara stared at her, wondering if there was a way to decipher the little girl’s madness. Eventually, she ditched the thought altogether and decided to take them through the orchard.
House Hallenar was the quietest it had been since the party. The weather was nice. Jurdeir and Gavin could finally oversee the construction of their barracks and training grounds. Ashbel had left for the courthouse early in the morning, and Lazarus went to meet with laborers to find a solution for the flooding. Ravina was out with her special tasks while Lora remained at the manor, waiting with Titha for two special guests Allanis had requested. In the apothecary shed, Rori toiled over a new poultice for Adeska’s wound, ransacking jars and wilds alike for ingredients.
Allanis hid away from them all in the infirmary. It was yet another day that her sister hadn’t woken. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Adeska wasted away entirely. It felt like they had tried everything. All that was left to do was watch her and wait.
Every day, every hour it seemed, Adeska’s face grew sallower and her skin paler. Pretty golden-blonde hair looked a little grayer. Allanis stared, afraid to blink, afraid to even breathe, lest she make it worse. She’d prayed to every god she knew of to just let her sister’s deep blue eyes open again.
She didn’t realize someone had joined her and had been next to her for the better part of ten minutes. In fact, she only caught sight of Phio at all because of his sigh.
“You!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
He looked at her, his face so full of weariness that she could hardly stand to look back. “Here? In this room? Or here, still in Suradia?”
“Part of me expected you to leave for Kamdoria when the storm let up.”
He rubbed his eyes. “No. I could never do that. You have my family here. One’s dying, and one’s rotting in a cage. I need to be here for them as long as you’ll let me, Allanis.”
“If you’re here to tell me about why I need to let Centa go, you can forget about it.” She crossed her legs and folded her arms. “He’s staying put.”
“That’s not why I’m here. Even though I would be grateful if you considered it. He’s a good father, Allanis. No one ever gets the chance to see that. I wish they did.”
“I’m glad he’s a good father, but he’s a shit husband.”
Phio pulled a stool over and sat down next to her, staring with her at Adeska’s chest, slowly rising and falling with weak breaths.
“Well, she’s a shit wife.”
Allanis scoffed. “Oh, please.”
“You don’t know her, Allanis.”
“Excuse me? Are you really going to try and tell me that I don’t know my own sister?”
“It’s true.” He folded his arms tight, trying to warm his hands. “You don’t know her as anyone but your sister. There’s a completely different person in there. She’s not just my friend. She’s my leader. She’s a warrior. I followed her into battle. This perfect, merciful mother that she’s made for you to see? That’s not who I know. Who we know. Centa fell in love with the ruthless warrior who battled a daemon. And that’s who fell in love with Centa.”
“I can’t picture it. I hear the stories, but that’s just not her. None of it.” Allanis slipped her hand into Adeska’s cold grasp.
“That’s the only Adeska I’ve ever known. The two of them fought and loved like warriors, and it worked. But when you take away the battlefield, it doesn’t. They both feel things with too much fire, and by the time they’ve solved a problem, their life is in ashes. I want you to know that.”
“Phio, she’s afraid of him!”
It was his turn to scoff. “Now I can really tell you don’t know her. She’s not afraid of him. The only things in this world Adeska fears are her own stupid decisions. Everything else is just an act because she thinks it’s what she’s supposed to fear.”
It did sound a little bit like Adeska, but Allanis wouldn’t be convinced. “I wanted to like him. I always wanted to like him, but I don’t think I ever really did. He never, ever liked any of us, and we tried so hard for him!”
“I know.” Phio frowned. “A big family doesn’t really suit Centa. He tried for all of you, trust me. It doesn’t seem like it, but he did.”
“You will talk him up in any way you possibly can, won’t you?”
Phio attempted a smile, but the frown was still in his eyes. “Everyone’s probably told you about how Centa and I met in Caequin, right? The story with the horse that ran through my parents’ shop?”
“Something like that.”
“I knew him way before that.”
She watched him shudder as he said it and was afraid of the story that was coming.
“We ignore the part that came before.” His voice was so low she could barely hear it.
“Adeska told me that you two knew each other. Said you grew up together.”
“Was that all she said?”
Allanis w
as nervous to respond. “Yes. Why?”
Phio’s sigh was crushing and hollowed him out. “I’m from Mirivin. A really small town called Miranboor. And my parents, well, they’re dreamers. A couple of carpenters who just wanted to see the world. They read about the Cerulendas Islands in a book they bought from a trader who came through town one day. He told them it was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen, so of course, my parents had to see it for themselves. For seven years, they saved up money and made a plan. I was eight when we finally took a ship off the north coast.
“It really is beautiful, but they don’t tell you how hot it is and how the air is always wet. But they were convinced that they loved it and that they were going to live there for the rest of our days. We lived in a big village, and business was decent. I met Centa around my ninth birthday—my parents introduced us after trying to round up anyone my age so I could finally have a friend. Centa was always pretty quiet, even back then. His older brother Jecori was nice, and his little sister Thany was okay sometimes, but she had episodes where she was mentally unwell.
“He never knew his father, and his mother was a salt miner. Not around much. Centa’s brother raised him and his sister. It wasn’t much different from your situation in those respects. That’s probably what Centa and Adeska bonded over in the beginning.”
Allanis rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Don’t go pointing out similarities for the sake of drawing out my sympathy.”
Phio slouched forward with his disappointment. “The way he is now, he was nothing like that back then. You’d never recognize him. He was so happy. Thany was a handful, and her condition got worse as we grew up, but he loved her and was protective of her. Really, nothing was bad until his mother met someone. She had been hurt in the salt mines and couldn’t work anymore, but this man she had been spending time with said he loved her and would take care of her and her family. They married, and she was happy. They both were. But he had a son. Older than Jecori, so Centa’s mother started to put him in charge when his father was gone.
“One day, his father didn’t come back. They found him dead on the beach, a handful of counterfeit gold coins shoved down his throat. Centa’s mother tried to go back to the salt mines after that, but less than a month later, she broke her back in a fall and died.”
“Oh my gods.”
“That left Centa and his siblings in the care of the other son. Taika. Allanis, there was never a problem with poverty. I loved Centa, him and I were thick as thieves by then, and my parents would have done anything for him and his family. They brought over food and clothes and whatever I told them to bring because if Taika thought they asked for any of it… if he thought they were insinuating that he wasn’t taking care of them—” Phio stopped and swallowed hard. “Allanis, he, he was a psychopath. None of them were safe. And then Thany suddenly slipped into this almost catatonic state for a while. She wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t look at anyone. So Taika hurt her worse. And he was obsessive about it. About everything.
“He dealt with smugglers and sold letalis and other drugs to the elves, and he would take Jecori with him when he did it. Jecori would never talk about the things he saw. He couldn’t. Taika was the one who ruined the islands for my parents. After a few years, they had saved up enough to go back to Mirivin. I told Centa. I begged him to go with me, to bring his family. We could take them all with us. Jecori wouldn’t do it, though. He couldn’t bear to leave the islands. He promised he’d keep Thany safe and told Centa to leave. So Centa hid at my house, and sure enough, Taika came looking for him, pretending to be as kind and caring as ever. My parents said they hadn’t seen him, but they were scheduled to leave in a couple of days, and if they saw him in the meantime, they’d let him know.
“We left that night. We were fourteen.”
Allanis stared at him with wide eyes. “I—gods, I had no idea.”
“He never looked back.” Phio rubbed his knuckles, wondering if he should go on. He hadn’t thought about their past in years. “Until he did. Just before Cato’s sister Marika went missing and triggered the whole situation where Cato and Adeska were held captive together.”
Allanis nodded, recalling the situation where Alor was hidden from Centa and Mariette was conceived.
“That’s right,” she said. “Adeska told us he went home, and she didn’t want to send him bad news while he was handling his business there.”
“He never told her what happened,” Phio said. “He’d gotten a letter from Jecori about Thany. She had snapped and fought back against Taika, and he hurt her and—”
He stopped to take in a sobering breath. Allanis waited, her mouth hanging ajar, anticipating the rest of his story. He rubbed his eyes and continued.
“A lot happened, but the letter said that Thany wouldn’t make it much longer. Centa went back to the islands to be with her when she died. He told me what he said to her. He said that when he told her he’d kill Taika, her face lit up. She had never looked so happy in all her life. Centa and Jecori held her as she died. Then, he set off to do what he’d promised.
“I’m glad I didn’t see it. He didn’t tell me how he did it, just that it got done. And then he washed his hands of his family and the islands forever. He was different when he came back. All the killing and the bloodshed of the raids, it took something from all of us, but Centa walked away more whole than we did. He was the only one who could boast that he was still himself. But what happened to him when he went back for Thany left him a ghost.”
“I don’t know what to say, Phio. I’m sorry. I wish I had known.”
“You never would have,” he said. “He didn’t have that explosive anger when we were little. He didn’t have it, really, until after Taika came along. After we left. At the heart of it all, it’s just guilt, I think. He wanted to fight, to defend his family, and he never got the chance.”
Allanis sniffled and gazed over to Adeska. Her vision was blurry, and her eyes stung as tears threatened to spill over. “It doesn’t mean I’m forgiving him and letting him go.”
“I didn’t think it would change your mind,” he said. “But I thought you should know. It was important that you understood who he is. Who he really is. Nothing between Centa and Adeska will ever end well, not like this. They aren’t meant for each other like this—in times of peace—but I’m too much of a coward to pull them apart. They love each other, and we’re made to think that’s the only thing it takes to make love work.” He blinked away the glassiness in his eyes. “Really, I’m to blame for all of this, too, for enabling them so much. They’re horrible for each other.”
“Phio, stop it. None of this is your fault. It’s not okay for you to take the blame for them. This is their mess. It happened because of problems they made.”
“What will you do with him?”
She didn’t know. She hadn’t known when she’d first decided to lock him away and had never really had a moment since to think it over. She squeezed Adeska’s limp hand.
“If you were me, what would you do?”
“If I were actually you, I’d wait to see what happens to Adeska. If she wakes up and recovers, let him go, but don’t let him come back. But if she—” he took a breath, “—if she doesn’t make it, if she dies, he’ll have killed her. And that means you have an ugly decision to make.”
“What would happen to Mari and Alor?”
“That’s also up to you. Mari’s like a daughter to me; I could take care of her. Rori had been taking care of Alor up until now, so she could continue. Or you could keep them both here. I don’t know. You could do whatever you want. You’re the queen.”
She hated to think of separating them now that they had finally met, but wouldn’t it be best to keep them with the people they already knew like family? No choice felt like the right one.
“Allanis, you should talk to Meeka.” He sat up straight. “That’s the real reason I came.”
“Is there more she wants to say?”
“No. She doesn’t
want to say anything to anyone. She’s not well, Allanis. Something is wrong with her. You need to talk to her.” He fixed on her furrowed brow. “Who questioned her?”
She stared back at him. “Lazarus.”
6
Kingsbane
He could hear nothing. He couldn’t remember what he was hearing before, but it was only silence now. He couldn’t see anything, either. It wasn’t even a swallowing darkness—it was just nothing.
Then he woke. Everything was white and cold. The walls, the pillars, the bed and the fur blankets. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain kept him flat in bed. He looked down to see bandages around his chest and the remnants of a dried poultice.
“You’re awake.”
He didn’t know the voice that spoke to him. A dark-skinned woman came up to him, bare feet crossing over the white fur rug soundlessly like a ghost. Her hair was twisted into little knots and accented with tiny pearls, and she wore white robes.
“You look much better,” she said. “Can you tell me who you are?”
His head hurt a little as he searched for the answer. For a moment, he was scared he didn’t know anymore. Then, he found a name. “Peyrs Aldridge. From Ebinno.”
“Very good. Much better, indeed. You are ready to speak to the duchess.”
“The duchess?”
“Yes. You’re in Davrkton. This is the Marble Palace. Some travelers found you in the woods, and Duchess Oksana is quite eager to speak to you.”
“Oh.” Sweat was cold on his brow. The details of what he had been doing in those woods were coming back to him. Hunters. He’d been with Hunters. But he knew practically nothing about the duchess and was suddenly terrified of their meeting.
“Come, roll this way. Carefully. Your ribs have a long way to go to heal, still.”
Peyrs obeyed, and with her help, he scooted out of the bed. How long had he been there? He was afraid to ask. She helped him clean up, wiping him down with a mixture of cold water, milk, and spices. She even brushed his long, tangled brown waves back into a ponytail and dressed him in a white robe.