by Wendy Wang
“I could have, but it would have been against everything I believe.” Her mother frowned and the shadows in her face made her look older than her years. “We must remain unified as a people. No matter what our differences, we are all still Kaels. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Well, let’s forget politics for now.” Her mother managed a smile. “Are you ready to work?”
Neala nodded and walked over to the wall of weapons. Her first inclination was for the knives, but instead she pulled down an ax. The weight of it felt good to her. Metal was her primary affinity and the ax hummed against her fingertips, ready to respond to her command. She centered herself, connecting to the flow of energy coursing inside her as Cai had taught her.
She raised her hand and reached for the orb hanging from the ceiling. It stretched on its chain until it was close enough for her to touch it with her fingertips. Her power surged through the orb and it glowed brighter.
“Target,” she said. A sheet of wood descended from the ceiling, growing from the rafters as if it were part of the original structure. In the center, three concentric circles enclosed a large round center.
The walls of the training room were once part of an outer wall to the palace and one of her ancestors had imbued it with the essence of all the elements—earth, water, fire, wood and metal. The room had protected weapons and armor at one time, and whatever weapon was stored there pulled energy from the walls, instilling it with more strength.
When the new palace was built two hundred years ago, the tower was to be torn down, its bricks repurposed. Her great-grandfather sensed something special about it and fought to save it. He found that different crystals channeled the energy of the room, so that the elements could work together to fulfill almost anything he desired. He developed the one-of-a-kind orb by fusing the different crystals together into a single command center. A focused thought and a direct order was all that was needed to force the elements to cooperate, forming targets and opponents.
Neala came here a lot when she was studying for her elements exams. She liked that she could strike down an enemy, or practice throwing knives or any other weapon hanging on the wall. It made her feel better to bring a foe to his knees, even if he disappeared into nothingness as soon as she did. Her mother did warn her once, though, that killing her opponent in this room would never prepare her for killing an opponent in real life.
“You know, I’ve never really seen the point in throwing an ax,” her mother said as she pulled a second ax from the wall.
“Oh, really? Not even in battle?” Neala said. She stepped back, hoisting the small handle back beyond her shoulder. One, two, three steps and she slung the ax. It toppled end over end before planting its sharp tip into the third ring from the center.
“If you’re going to throw it, at least hit the middle,” her mother teased, pulling her ax over her head. She took two steps and let the ax go. It flung through the air until it connected with the large red bull’s-eye.
“Show-off,” Neala laughed. They took turns throwing axes for awhile, teasing each other before moving onto knives. No one but her family ever saw her mother this way—relaxed, joking and fierce with a blade. Neala wished they could always be this way.
“You’re twisting your wrist just before you release. Which is why you’re not hitting the center,” her mother instructed. “Try holding your elbow in a straight line with the target.”
“Like this?” Neala said. She held the small blade by its handle close to her ear, with her elbow aligned with the midpoint.
“Yes. Try again,” her mother said.
Neala threw the knife. It landed dead center. Neala clapped her hands together. “Well done.” Her mother patted Neala’s shoulder. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how proud I am of you.”
“For hitting the center?” Neala quipped. “I might hold off on throwing me a parade until I’ve hit it a few more times without failing.”
“I’m serious. I am proud of how you’ve pulled yourself out of your melancholy.”
“I was never melancholy,” Neala protested as she took another knife from the wall.
“Well, whatever the emotion, I’m glad that you didn’t let it rule you for long,” her mother said.
“Cai’s training has helped.” Neala pinched the blade between her thumb and forefinger, holding it by its tip, ready to fling it.
“Cai has taught you to think like a warden, a useful mindset to have,” her mother said. “Now that you’re getting back to normal, have you given much thought to being matched?” The question was too nonchalant for Neala’s liking.
“None.” Neala tossed the blade in the air and caught it with ease.
“Perhap –”
“No. There’s no perhaps this or perhaps that–” Neala locked her eyes with her mother’s and planted her feet. “A matching ceremony would be a frivolous waste of time. Maybe when we are no longer at war.” When Peter’s dead, she added silently. “I’ll consider being matched again, not ‘til then.”
“Are you sure that’s the reason?”
“Of course. What else would it be?”
Her mother leaned against the edge of the table. “Oh, I can think a reason or two. One of them shows up almost daily to train with you.”
“Mother, no” Neala said flatly.
“I see the way he looks at you,” her mother said, sounding almost hopeful. “And I see the way you look at him when you think no one is watching. You care for him and I know he cares very much for you.”
“What is your point?” Neala gripped the hilt of the knife tightly, letting her fingernails dig into the leather wrapping.
“You know there are special circumstances where a matching ceremony could be dispensed with,” her mother said softly.
“What circumstances?” Neala asked.
“When two people’s energies become so entangled that not matching them becomes detrimental.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever heard you say. My energy is not entangled with anyone. Cai and I are – friends.”
“Friends.” Her mother’s tone implied doubt and Neala frowned. “You certainly don’t act like friends.”
“Well we are. I don’t know what you think you see, but whatever it is, it’s most likely your imagination.”
“I see—” Her mother shook her head and took a sip of water from the cup beside the towels. “So if I told you Tayslee Beckett was planning her matching ceremony for October and Cai mentioned applying, it wouldn’t bother you?”
“No.” Neala’s voice shot up an octave and a stab of panic flared through her heart. She turned her back on her mother and pretended to look at another weapon. She couldn’t let her mother see that it did bother her. “May Jerugia bless them if they’re matched.”
“Wonderful, I’ll let him know he has my approval.” Her mother stood up straight and folded her arms. “And yours.”
“Of course I approve.” Neala ran her finger over the etching of one of the swords. “Although – it’s a difficult time to be matched. With only three realms able to participate. Perhaps someone should mention it to Tayslee.”
“I’m sure someone will.” Her mother’s mouth twisted into a wry smile as she shook her head.
“I’ll have to remember to congratulate him.”
“Indeed,” her mother said as she walked to the wall of weapons and placed the spear she was using back into its clamps.
“Are you finished practicing for the day?” Neala glanced sideways at her mother.
“Yes, my dear. I had hoped to wear you out, but it appears all I’ve done is wear me out.” Her mother brushed her hand over Neala’s hair.
“We should do this more often,” Neala said quietly.
“We should.” Her mother kissed her cheek. “I’m here every morning at six if you’re truly interested.” Her mother tidied up the table because she didn’t allow servants into the tower. Not even Isolde. It was only a plac
e for family.
“So is Cai truly going to apply for Tayslee’s match? Or are you teasing me?” Neala asked, trying not to let her worry shine through in her voice. Cai was an excellent match and Neala thought Tayslee Beckett unworthy of him.
“What difference does it make to you if he does? You’re only friends.”
Neala scoffed and threw her dagger at the target. She hit one of the outer rings.
“You know, my dear, I don’t have to read your thoughts to see how much you care for him and the chemistry between you two is unmistakable,” her mother said.
“We argue too much,” Neala said as she retrieved the knife.
“A little disagreement isn’t such a bad thing in a relationship, as long as your values are in line.” Her mother’s mouth curved into a half-grin.
“What about trusting the fates?” Neala asked.
“The fates have a way of making their plans known, my love. Match or no match.” Her mother touched her arm. “I’m heading down. Don’t forget to lock the door. All right?”
“Yes, Mother.” Neala gave her mother a weary smile and watched as she closed the door behind her.
“Entangled,” Neala said to the room. She spun the knife in her hand, reared her arm back and flung it. It sliced through the air before sticking into the handle of the blade she’d put in the bull’s-eye a few minutes earlier. The two knives hung suspended for a few seconds before the second blade pulled them both clattering to the stone floor.
Twelve
Cai sent her a note. Written in small, neat letters, it read: Training canceled. Need to speak with you. Will send escort. Be ready. Well, at least he didn’t mince words, she thought as she folded the heavy paper and slipped it into the drawer of her desk. Be ready.
This would be her first trip outside the palace without him. She checked her dagger. It was strapped firmly in place on her thigh. Three quick breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth—just as Cai taught her. Panic’s heavy fingers squeezed at the base of her throat despite the breathing exercise. This was ridiculous! Peter couldn’t get to her. Not with an armed escort beside her and she could rely on her training, too. She hated being afraid and hated Peter for making her afraid. Even after three weeks of working not only with Cai but with her mother, fear still threatened to topple her. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table and she forced herself to her feet.
“Good morning, your Highness,” Isolde said as she entered Neala’s room.
“Good morning, Isolde.” Since Linka’s arrest, Isolde had taken on the girl’s duties, attending not only to the Queen but to Neala, too. Just until they could find a replacement that passed Cai’s extensive background inquiry.
“Would you like me to braid your hair?” Isolde asked.
“No, thank you. I can do it myself.” Neala raked her fingers through her thick, red mane and quickly braided her hair over her right shoulder. She twisted it into a knot at the base of her skull and pinned it into place.
“Have I missed breakfast?” Neala asked, her stomach grumbling.
“I don’t think so, Highness. It’s only 7:15.” Isolde glanced at a silver timepiece pinned to her dress. Neala grabbed her summer cloak from the closet. She wrapped the pale green linen around her shoulders.
“Good, I’ll stop in for some toast. Please tell my mother that I’m off to meet with the chief commander. I’m not sure if I’ll be home for lunch. How do I look?” she asked.
“I like the color of that cloak. It’s nice with your hair,” Isolde said. That was about as much of a compliment as Neala was ever going to get from the older woman.
“Thanks.” Neala nodded.
Neala rushed down the steps, slipped out through the kitchen, making sure to grab a piece of buttered toast from one of the trays, and headed for the breakfast room. As she stepped into the hallway leading to the exit, she took a deep breath. Her heart thudded in her throat as she scanned the faces of the wardens.
The service door opened and a towering warden with reddish-blond hair and a jovial face entered. The other wardens greeted him with salutes but he met her eyes right away. He smiled, and his dark green eyes became half-moons.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” he said, loud enough for the other wardens to turn and notice her. Wonderful, now she would never be able to leave the palace unattended again.
She forced a smile. “Good morning, Captain Gubler. I take it you’re my escort?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped a two finger salute to her. “Always was.”
“All right, then, let’s get going. Don’t want to keep the chief waiting.”
“No, ma’am, we do not.” Gordon grinned and offered his elbow to her. She gave him a smile and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.
The walk to the wardens’ base was brisk. She’d forgotten how much work it was to keep up with Gordon’s long legs. She only made him pause once. When they reached the grand hall she stopped and looked up at the ceiling, mesmerized by the battle scene.
“Quite something, isn’t it, ma’am?” Gordon said.
“Indeed it is, Captain,” she said.
A few minutes later, after Gordon led her through a labyrinth of hallways she’d never seen before, they stopped in front of a set of heavy double-doors. Gordon rapped his knuckles against the oak three times.
Neala heard Cai’s familiar voice say, “Come.” Gordon twisted the door-handle and opened the right door, gesturing for Neala to enter first.
After walking through the dim corridors, the brightness of the room blinded her for a moment and she squinted until her eyes adjusted. The white plaster walls led to a ceiling of rough-hewn cedar beams, burnished with age. A long, oak table lined part of the far wall. The click of her boots echoed off the walls of the sparsely furnished room as she crossed towards Cai.
“Good morning.” Cai smiled as he motioned for her to take a look at all the things gathered on the table. She walked the length of the table, running her fingertip across the curious collection; a stack of sketch paper, canvases already stretched and of different sizes and shapes, an array of paint brushes and jars of pigments, several bottles of linseed oil, two different sized palettes, a large mortar and pestle made of glass and a muller.
“What is all this?” She noticed an easel and stool by the vast expanse of windows.
“Your new work area.” Cai’s grin stretched wide across his face. “If you’ll have it.”
“I don’t understand. This is for me?” She cocked her head and tried to decipher Cai’s expression. “What are you up to?”
Cai’s eyes cut to Gordon. Gordon nodded and gave her a wink before leaving the two of them alone. Cai fixed his gaze on her. “I need you to paint a passage way to Nydia.”
“All right.” She dragged out the words. “I take it you have a plan.”
Cai sighed. “I do. Unfortunately, I can’t go into much detail.”
“Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” His voice dropped.
“I need more information, otherwise I can’t help you.” Neala balled her hands into fists, holding them close to her hips.
“And if I asked your mother to order you to paint?” Cai put a hand on his hip, right above the baton hanging from his belt.
“That’s a fantastic idea. Why don’t we go talk to her about it.” She jerked her thumb towards the doors. Cai’s jaw clenched and he shook his head. She could almost see the steam coming from his ears. “Was intimidation your only tactic? Because you need a new plan if it was. I’m not scared of you, Cai.”
“Your Highness,” he said, emphasizing each word. His hand dropped from his hip and his cheeks reddened. “I was not trying to intimidate you.”
“That’s not the way it looked from here.” She rubbed her knuckles against the soft cotton of her pants. “You want me to paint for you? Then give me an explanation. Where do you need to go? My experience with Nydia is limited.”
“A city called A
’Lumara. Have you ever heard of it?”
“It’s the Nydian capital. Every school child has heard of it.”
“That’s where we need to go.”
“He’s there, isn’t he?” she said softly. Cai stared at her, unblinking, his face frozen with no readable expression. “So you’re sending an expedition?”
“Neala–”
“I told you I wanted to go.”
“You’re not ready,” he said. Still no expression or blinking. How did he do that?
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“Yes, it is.” His chin jutted slightly. “Especially when it comes to my people’s safety.”
“You think I would endanger them?”
“Not purposefully.” Cai’s face softened. “But it is more than just whether you’re ready or not. Your maid was a fountain of information on Nydia.”
“But she’s Ethavian –”
“Her mother was.” Cai nodded. “But her father is Nydian and loyal to Peter’s cause.”
“Are you certain?” All the fight left her and she folded her arms across her chest. A cold finger touched her heart. How could she have not known?
“Yes. She was very forthcoming once we arrested her.” Cai’s eyes drifted over her right shoulder as if he was remembering something. He stepped closer, his expression serious. “There’s more.” He hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“You really want to hear this?”
Neala sighed and nodded. “Yes.”
“Peter recruited her long before he ever showed any interest in you. Charmed her. Convinced her she was important and to pass on information about you.”
“Jerugia’s crown.” Her stomach wrenched and her knees trembled. Nothing about meeting Peter had been coincidental. Nothing he’d said had been real. These were things she knew in her head, but some part of her heart refused to believe it. She placed one hand flat on the table to steady herself.
“Are you all right?” Cai moved towards her and she put her hand up to stop him.
She blew out her breath and straightened her spine. “I’m fine, Cai, and I’m going, whether you like it or not. You want me to paint for you? I will paint for you…but I am going.”