Cephy could be patient. She’d been impulsive once; the Dark One taught her better, and He grew stronger every day.
Once they had Rachael’s blood, she would set the gifted free. No more hiding. No more running away. Rachael thought Cephy had sacrificed too much, but there was no such thing. Peace for the gifted was worth everything. Why didn’t Rachael see that?
The Dark One would rule, and her people would finally know freedom.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Commander Dryden missed patrolling the streets. As a recruit, regular patrols had been his favourite part of the job. You always found crime anywhere, and in big cities like the White City, all varieties of it were abundant. He had made a difference when he’d saved a woman from a mugger and returned her purse. He had helped when he’d chased down that group of kids who stole three loaves of bread because they couldn’t afford to eat and were too young to work. Their parents had been poor—their father injured and their mother sick—and they hadn’t seen another option to theft.
After he’d chased them down, he went with them to meet their parents. In smaller towns, kids often lied to get by, and he’d learned the hard way to make sure before pointing fingers. These kids had been telling the truth. Instead of arresting anyone, he had made weekly visits bringing groceries and medicine until the parents were better. Two of their sons had enrolled in the White Guard.
He smiled at one of those kids now. She was almost an adult; another winter and she’d be old enough to do whatever she wanted without her parents. The girl waved back with a big smile of her own.
He missed those days, but he was more important today. He helped more people while he held the city together on Rachael’s behalf. They were rebuilding well, but they were uneasy. He couldn’t blame them—Rachael had killed their last ruler, had taken the throne and introduced a few laws some found difficult, and had then left the country for longer than expected. She had done what she thought best, he knew that, but the people didn’t know what was really going on. Maker, he didn’t know either. But he trusted Rachael and he believed in her vision.
It was just difficult to convince people who hadn’t seen what he’d seen that Rachael hadn’t abandoned them with half the treasury in her pockets.
“Dryden?”
The girl he’d smiled at stepped up to him. He sighed; once, he wouldn’t have missed someone approaching him, but his current position often had him preoccupied with worry.
“Sarah Green! How are you? Parents still going strong?” He didn’t mind that she didn’t call him by his rank. She wasn’t in the guard herself, and therefore didn’t break any rules. They’d met when he was a recruit. He was happy to leave it at that.
She curtsied. “Father was promoted last week, and mother is better than ever.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Can I help you with anything?” He was happy she’d come over to talk, but usually they exchanged little more than smiles and waves.
Sarah looked at her feet and shuffled awkwardly. “Well, it’s just that… Everyone’s wondering about Queen Rachael. When will she come back?” She sought his eyes. “I have no right to know, of course, but—”
“But people are wondering. I know. We can’t be sure when she’ll return and I’m not at liberty to discuss details, but please rest assured that our beloved queen is away on important business.”
They had agreed to keep things quiet so the city wouldn’t panic, which wasn’t difficult when he didn’t know everything himself.
“Does it have something to do with the attack on the palace?” Sarah asked.
Hardly anyone knew that Rachael had been here for that. The only people in the palace at the time had been her Sparrows, his guard, and a few staff, most of which had either died during the attack or had hidden and not seen anything because of it. The few who had left with any information likely hadn’t seen Rachael. At best, people had heard rumours.
Commander Dryden looked at the palace roof. No one had missed the noise when the dragon had torn a hole into it, but that just gave them more questions.
A small group had gathered around him and Sarah. He couldn’t tell them specifics, but he could give them something.
“As you all know, demons attacked the palace. Our beloved queen returned from Krymistis with her gift to defend the city and you, her treasured people.” He had no idea how she’d returned so fast, but right now he needed to sound confident. “Her Highness takes this attack on her home and her people seriously and is currently away to hunt down the people responsible and bring them to justice.”
The crowd around him had grown. Some exchanged surprised glances. Commander Dryden smiled; it had been a while since this country had a proactive ruler.
“At this very moment, Queen Rachael is fighting to keep you safe and evil away from your doorsteps, but she can’t do it alone.” He had merely wanted to rile the people a little, give them a little hope, but an idea struck him. “To support her as she supports us, I’m opening recruitment into the White Guard. You must be ready to act at a moment’s notice and defend your country. I am awaiting news from either our queen herself or her trusted Sparrow, Cale Spurling, any day now.” Or so he hoped. “If you are prepared to fight for Rifarne, your home, and Her Royal Majesty Queen Rachael of Rifarne, report to the barracks today.”
An excited whisper went through the crowd. Commander Dryden was glad it had been enough, but how much longer would it last? He wasn’t a good liar; he couldn’t keep this up. If they didn’t hear from Rachael soon, he’d have nothing to show for his speech.
He had a feeling he was right, however. Rachael would need their help soon—you needed numbers to fight the terrors that had invaded the palace—and he’d bring her as many soldiers as possible.
Kleon leaned against a building and watched Commander Dryden rally the people. He’d never seen anyone open recruitment so publicly before—or at all, now he thought about it. It wasn’t necessary in Tramura. All young men had to enlist at least for a few years, and there were always enough that enjoyed the bloodshed that their ranks didn’t thin too much.
He paused. He’d never thought of it as bloodshed before, just war—not a positive thing, exactly, but a necessary one. Spending time here had shown him that it wasn’t just or right, and the letter…
But then, that’s why Kleon was here right now, to talk to Commander Dryden about the sacrifices and unnecessities of war. His father would be disappointed.
Kleon walked over to the commander, who was still talking to a young woman. She didn’t look like a soldier. An old friend, maybe?
“That was quite a speech,” Kleon said when he reached them.
Commander Dryden smiled. “Kleon. I didn’t realise you were here.” He turned to the woman. “Sarah, this is Kleon. He’s Rachael’s brother and here to help.”
She regarded him with the same suspicion he’d come to expect. “From Tramura, right?”
“Yes,” he said. “From the same city as Kiana and Reeve, if I’m not mistaken.” Had they gone through the same scorn when Cale had recruited them? Somehow, Kleon doubted it. It was one thing to be chosen by the Sparrows’ leader, and quite another to arrive in the country as a guest and try to kill that same trusted leader. Kleon hadn’t poisoned Cale’s drink, but his father wasn’t here to take the blame. He knew it wasn’t personal.
At least he didn’t think it was.
“Kleon has been a great help training the Sparrows,” Commander Dryden said. “This is Sarah, an old friend. Her brothers are White Guards. I met them some years ago after their parents had fallen on hard times.”
“Nice to meet you.” In Tramura, manners were often spoken with a touch of sarcasm. A formality that was rarely meant with genuine feelings. In Rifarne, the opposite was true, and Kleon was still getting used to it. “If you have a minute, commander, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Commander Dryden looked over the crowd, which had dispersed again and was happy to chat among the
mselves. “I think I’m done here for now. Let’s return to my office, it’s more private.”
Kleon followed the commander back up King’s Road towards the palace. Now that he was about to talk about his idea, he was nervous. In Tramura, it would have been treason to suggest less; he had to remind himself that the worst the commander would do was decline the offer. No one would throw him into prison to await his public execution so they could make an example out of him and put off anyone else that might have the same treasonous thoughts. Maker, his father would have insisted, to prove the rest of his family was still loyal.
“I’ve never seen a commander address the people like you did,” Kleon said when they neared the palace.
Commander Dryden turned around and smiled. “I imagine there are a few things you see here that you’d never see across the border.”
Kleon returned the smile. “You don’t know the half of it. My reason for wanting to talk is one of them.”
Commander Dryden’s smile disappeared. “Sounds serious. Why don’t we talk in the Sparrows’ meeting room? It’s closer, and there’s no reason why we can’t do this in your office.”
Kleon raised his eyebrows. “My office?”
“It’s where Cale did all his important meetings—not that he had many that didn’t involve all of the Sparrows. You’re in charge with him, Kiana, and Lon away, so it’s your office until at least one of them returns.” Commander Dryden looked over his shoulder at Kleon. “Unless there’s a reason we can’t do it where the Sparrows might overhear?”
He was about to say that it wasn’t private enough, but they were the Sparrows. He assumed at least one was always watching him. The commander’s office would be no more private than the Sparrows’ base, and it couldn’t hurt to show his face there more often.
“None at all.”
It was around noon, and the usually busy room was mostly empty. Only three Sparrows he didn’t know by name sat together in one corner and gave him curious glances when they entered. He didn’t know if it stayed at curiosity because they were getting used to him or because the commander was with him.
Kleon opened the door and waved Commander Dryden inside. “Have a seat.” He made sure the door was shut tight behind him, just in case this was a bad idea after all.
“What’s this about?” Commander Dryden asked. “You look worried. Are the Sparrows giving you trouble?”
Kleon sat opposite him. “On the contrary, they’re trying to be welcoming. It’s something else. Lon offered to send a Sparrow to Tramura for me, into my father’s mansion, to recover a few scrolls we were interested in.”
The commander straightened. “Well, you have my attention now. I take it those scrolls arrived?”
Kleon nodded. “It’s mostly letters from one of my ancestors. She wrote about how the first Sparrows used magic together with their weapons to fight.”
“Like Krymistis?”
“I don’t think so. Krymistians fight with enchanted weapons, but they don’t actively use magic. Midokans, on the other hand, don’t use weapons at all and rely on their gift alone. But what the original Sparrows did… They were something in between. You might call them war sorcerers.” He swallowed. Commander Dryden had gone still, his face unreadable. Was he thinking—or was it fear? “Unless I’ve read wrong, of course. I’m no expert in the language. It’s possible I’ve made a mistake.”
Commander Dryden’s eyes had glazed over like he was far away in thought, but they focussed on Kleon now. “By the Maker, Kleon. The potential.”
Kleon looked at the commander, really looked at him. Excitement sparked in his eyes, along with a strength Kleon hadn’t seen in many people. He slowly breathed out the sigh of relief he’d held.
“You want to bring them back,” Commander Dryden said.
Kleon nodded. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t try it. Rifarne has the swords and the magic, and it would support Rachael’s new laws regarding the gifted. As far as I know, no other country combines both. It would give Rachael an advantage if it goes well.”
Commander Dryden stood. “Kleon, you’re a genius. I’ll involve my White Guard as well, if you don’t mind. We can train them together, at least for a while until we know what they can do. If that wouldn’t be stepping on your toes, that is?”
They shook hands.
“Not at all,” Kleon said. “To be honest, I’m nervous to see so much magic up close.” He was grateful the commander had offered. Asking for help was a weakness discouraged in all Tramuran children; many, like him, had it beaten out of them. Yet another thing that was so different here, but embracing it wasn’t as difficult—asking for help led to tactical advantages.
“Then I will extend the offer to my guards,” Commander Dryden said. “If any of them have the gift or are interested in trying something different, I’ll bring them along once we got the Sparrows used to the idea.”
“It might take a while, but I think it’ll be worth it.”
“I agree,” the commander said. “Thank you for bringing this to me.”
“I wasn’t sure who else to talk to,” Kleon said. “Oren has been helpful, but he doesn’t want to be in charge.”
“I’ll support you in any way I can. If you’re ready, we can start tomorrow, see what the Sparrows can do and how we can use it.”
Kleon was surprised to realise he was more excited than nervous. “Training starts at six in the morning. Join us whenever you’re ready. I’ll wait until you’re there.”
He was already making formation and tactic plans in his head, but it’d be difficult until he knew what gifts the Sparrows had and how they used them. Given Rifarne’s recent history, he didn’t expect them to have worked with their gifts much. This might take even longer than he’d anticipated, but it was a start.
Kleon couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Commander Dryden were about to make history.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Rachael sat in the sand and observed Kiana and Desma’s sparring session. Kaida stood next to her with an amused smile on her lips. The Sparrows were loading what little belongings and provisions they’d brought onto the raft, but Cale had made it clear that Rachael and Kiana were to rest. Maker forbid she pull a muscle carrying what was left of their dried beef. She’d argued that she’d survived a climb down the temple, but Cale hadn’t accepted it.
“They do not need help,” Kaida said. “They did not bring much, and you are their queen. It befits your rank that they work while you oversee their labour.”
Rachael scowled. “That’s not the kind of queen I want to be.”
Kaida chuckled. “And that is why you will be a strong leader. But I am sure you can see that another pair of hands would not make a big difference?”
Rachael shrugged. Of course it wouldn’t—the Sparrows had only brought so much, and they’d coped just fine without her on the way here.
And it was fun to watch Kiana and Desma. Rachael had thought Kiana to be unrivalled with two daggers, but Desma made her reconsider. Desma was fast, evaded flawlessly, and spotted openings Rachael hadn’t noticed. She advanced on Kiana without mercy, but Kiana didn’t let herself be herded either. She fought with just as much passion, elegance, and ferocity. It was mesmerising to watch. While Rachael observed them, she didn’t ponder what her gift might do to her or what else Kaida was hiding. It was a moment of distraction in a world that allowed no breaks.
Cale threw a bag onto the raft and crossed his arms. “I thought you needed to recover?”
Kiana dodged an impressive kick to her side from Desma. “I do!” She rolled behind Desma and kicked at her knees. Desma dodged without effort. Their grins were half euphoric, half mad, like this was the most fun either of them had had in a long time. “It’s all about muscle memory. I’ll recover faster if I spar.”
Cale raised his eyebrows. “I think you can’t be bothered.”
Desma grabbed for Kiana’s arm, but Kiana was faster. She gripped Desma’s elbow, pulled against her weight,
and threw Desma to the ground. Desma rolled onto her side, seized Kiana’s leg, and pulled her down beside her.
Desma leaned over Kiana. “Gotcha.”
Kiana smiled, shoved her elbow into Desma’s chest, and rolled on top of her, straddling her with both legs. “I don’t think so, Krymistian.”
“I think,” Rachael said to Cale, “that you don’t want to make her angry. We don’t have much. One person could have loaded the raft.”
Cale dug his heels into the sand. “It’s about principle.”
“It’s about not getting your ass kicked,” Reeve said.
They’d formed a circle around the sparring girls, fierce as demons and laughing like children. Rachael missed her own sparring sessions with Kiana, but they’d never been anything like this. Kiana hadn’t held back—the enemy wouldn’t, so Kiana hadn’t shown mercy either—but this was different. Desma was her equal, familiar with her weapon like only a Krymistian could be. Krymistians received dull swords at birth and carried them all their lives. The blades were sharpened when the Krymistian came of age, but by then they’d lived and grown with their weapons. It showed in Desma’s skill. Her dagger wasn’t a weapon, it was a part of her.
Cale sighed but couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes; they were both grateful to have Kiana back.
“Your muscle memory seems fine,” he said. “How about you continue your practice on Malia?”
Desma jumped to her feet and held out a hand for Kiana, who stopped piling sand onto her legs and took it.
“We could practice on the boat,” Desma said. “It’s important to train on unsteady ground.”
“No, thanks,” Rachael said. “You can wait until we’re back on land.” Perhaps she’d learn to swim once the world wasn’t at stake. Right now, the idea of a rocking raft—no matter how sturdy it looked—made her seasick and cling to her sword’s hilt, and they hadn’t even boarded the raft yet.
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