by Wendy Wang
“Your mother will never approve,” he said.
“Yes, she will.”
“All right.” He touched her arm. “Get her approval and you can go.”
“Promise?” she said, wary of his sudden change of heart.
Cai squared his gaze on hers. “Promise.”
******
Neala hunched over the worktable, dipping the fine tip of her brush into the paint. She scraped off half of the pigment, sharpening the tip. She dabbed the pale green paint over the leaves in the miniature picture then blew across the tiny canvas. Her eyes fluttered as her breath drew out and she imagined the image in her palm coming to life. Opening her eyes, she inspected the scene for any sign of movement. She sighed with disappointment when all she found was a still canvas.
“Damn,” she said and pushed her hand over it, trying to smudge it out of existence. Her skin prickled as she drew close. With the pad of her thumb, she pressed against the canvas expecting the image to smear, instead her thumb disappeared. A laugh bubbled up from inside her. Closing her fingers tightly into a fist, she pressed her whole hand through the canvas. It disappeared just as her thumb had. She shook her head and couldn’t stop grinning. A knock came at the door, startling her, and she pulled her hand out quickly and placed the canvas on the table.
Neala tidied up, wiping up paint stains and straightening brushes. She took a clean rag from the stack at the corner of her table and covered the canvas with it before turning towards the door and shouting, “Come!”
The door opened and Cai stuck his head inside. “Are you terribly busy? I can come back later.”
“No, come in.” Neala waved him inside, giving him a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“You’re looking well.” He moved towards her and the black leather armor covering his chest and forearms creaked. The intricate tooling of all five elements working in harmony with each other caught her attention. On his chest, a scene depicted the wide trunk of a tree, branches twisting upwards, covered in leaves, roots spiraling into the earth below, behind the tree, fields rolled—one side lined with crops, the other side burning at the mercy of flames—towards a body of water and the horizon. Centered across them all was Jerugia’s crown, the first Queen of Kaels, the daughter of the creator sent into the world to unify the first commanders of the elements.
“Thank you, I am well.” She skimmed her hand across the thick, leather plate strapped to his forearm, admiring the intricate pattern of swirling leaves. “This is new.”
“Yes, it is. Do you like it, Highness?” His dark brows tugged together and his lips formed an amused smirk.
“I do.” She glanced into his face. His steady gaze caught her off guard, filling her cheeks with heat. She yanked her hand away. “It’s very nice.”
“Thank you. How is your painting coming along?” he asked.
“I’m almost finished.” Neala rose from her chair. Several finished canvases leaned against the wall near her table, drying. All of the paintings were of different parts of the beach as she remembered it, but only one moved. The cry of gulls intensified as she picked it up from the floor and turned it so he could see it. “Here it is. Your own personal gateway.”
“Perfect.” He picked up one corner of the canvas, his eyes scrutinizing it. “The detail is amazing. How did you figure this out?”
Neala shrugged. “Practice.”
“So this one takes us there?”
“Yes.” She nodded. She pinched the corners of the cloth covering her new painting and lifted it carefully. “And this is the way home.”
“The port stone,” he chuckled. “Very nice.”
“Thanks.”
“All right.” He nodded. “Are you ready?”
Neala breathed in through her nose and gave him an emphatic nod. “Yes.”
“You can change your mind, you know. No one will think any less of you.” He glanced at her sideways then cast his eyes down on the painting again. A faint echo of his thoughts filled her head. I don’t want you to go.
“Are you doing that on purpose?” she said.
“Doing what?” He pressed his thumb against the canvas and sucked in a breath when it sank into the painting. He jerked his hand away as if the image had burned him.
“I know you don’t want me to go.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t want to have this argument again.”
“I understand why you’re so insistent on going.” He put his hands flat on the table and tipped his head forward. “But I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”
“I told you I will follow your rules.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t comfort me.”
“If you tell me you don’t want me to go–” she grimaced. “Then I won’t go. I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”
“I won’t do that to you.” He straightened up and turned towards her. “You’ve worked too hard and honestly, you’d have made an excellent warden in a different life.”
“It’s always good to have career opportunities. Maybe I’ll just quit being a princess,” she teased.
“I do have a request, though, if you’re really going through with this,” he said.
“Of course you do. What is it?” She cocked her head and watched as he dug his hand beneath his chest plate and pulled out the round silver pendant, encircling his lifestone.
“I want you to wear this.” He slipped the black leather cord over his head and thrust it towards her. It swung back and forth, mesmerizing her.
“Cai, I can’t do that. That’s yours. It protects you,” she said. More than anything, she wanted to reach for it. Hold it in her hands. Feel its energy. Brush her thumb over the carved stone in the center that was formed from his blood and held a little piece of his soul. Her palms twitched and she balled her hands against her sides, digging her nails deep into flesh.
“No.” Cai slid the cord over her head. “It protects the wearer. Think of it as an extra level of security.” It hung lower than her locket, falling between her small breasts. Even through the layers of her clothes, it thrummed with his energy. She traced the stone before picking it up to take a closer look.
“I don’t really need extra security.” She frowned.
“Yes, you do.” His tone made it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Arguing with him over it was pointless and she resigned herself to accepting his kindness.
“Peter’s is a bear.” She held the silver disk between her thumb and forefinger. “Is this…a bird?”
“It’s a raven and as long as you wear it, Peter can’t read you. I’m afraid it’s the best I can do at this point,” he said.
“What will protect you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
The pendant drew her eyes to it again. “Peter’s works like this, doesn’t it?”
“Yes — it does. It lets the wearer control which thoughts are read by other Wood Kaels,” he said.
“I see,” she said. It surprised her that it didn’t hurt more to hear the truth. Peter had spent every moment with her hidden behind one thing or another. His smile. His agenda. Even his lifestone. Her fingers wrapped around the pendant. “Thank you. I promise to keep it safe.”
“I know you will.” He gave her a weary smile. “Can you be ready by six o’clock tomorrow morn?” He brushed his thumb across her cheek and tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear. Her stomach flipped over and her eyes flitted to his mouth.
Neala chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
As soon as he was gone, she slipped the pendant inside her blouse and started work on another canvas.
******
Neala sat at her vanity, dangling Cai’s pendant in her hand. Darkness filled her window panes. The sky wouldn’t start to lighten for at least another hour. Plenty of time for her to dress and get down to her mother’s office to meet Cai.
On her bed was the Nydian outfit he’d sent over – a pale bl
ue linen robe with pearl buttons, a pair of matching pants, a pair of thong sandals made with jute cording, and a veil. A note lay on top of the ensemble, written in his small script. As usual, it was brief Put these on. See you at 6. ~ C
She had worn a smile for almost an hour after receiving the note and read it over and over, focusing on the signature— Not Cai. Not Chief Commander. C. Was it wrong that she liked it? Was it fair? More and more, she wanted to be in his presence.
Her eyes drifted from his pendant to her reflection. She rarely looked in mirrors these days—afraid she might not recognize herself. Her blue eyes were the same, but the dark shadows beneath them made her skin even more pallid and her lack of appetite hadn’t done her already slim figure any favors. The dark ruby in her locket winked at her, drawing her attention away from her thin face. She placed his pendant on the vanity. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of her necklace and once free of her neck, she laid them side by side, pressing them together, so their sides touched. She squinted. Waited. Held her breath. What was she hoping would happen? Did she want them to draw together? She had no interest in a formal match. Or so she kept telling herself. Still Cai’s stone was here, right next to hers. Maybe if she took them out of their pendants and held them in her palm. Maybe –
A loud rap on the door made her heart jump into her throat and her hand knocked both pendants to the floor. She glanced at the timepiece by her bed. It read 5:30.
“Come,” she said. The door opened and Isolde entered.
“Good morning, Highness. I thought you might need some help dressing this morning,” Isolde said, clasping her hands together.
“Thank you, Isolde. I think I can take care of myself this morning,” Neala said.
“All right. Should you need me, though—”
“I’ll ring.”
“Very well.” Isolde nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
Neala blew out her breath and rubbed her face, trying to calm herself. A quiet laugh escaped her lips. How stupid to get so out of sorts over a knock at the door. When her hands stopped shaking, she reached for the pendants, grabbing them by their necklaces. Her heart jumped again, racing so hard she thought she might be sick. The two stones – her ruby and his obsidian—clung to each other making the separate pendants into one.
“Jerugia’s crown,” she whispered. Stones only joined together when the little sliver of soul residing inside it met its match. Cai was her match. Cai. Neala swallowed hard and pried them apart. She slipped his pendant over her head, tucking it inside her shirt before fastening her locket in its usual place. Her fingers brushed over her stone and the dark ruby trembled against her skin. It doesn’t mean anything, she thought.
Keep telling yourself that, Princess—Peter’s voice echoed through her head. A distant, mocking memory. Neala picked up her silver hairbrush and threw it. The mirror dented in the center, splintering into a web of cracks, distorting her reflection into a thousand different pieces.
Thirteen
No one gave Neala a second look as she walked through the halls, which she thought was strange because when was the last time a Nydian woman had been in the palace? She took a deep breath as she approached the ornate door to her mother’s office. She knocked once and turned the knob, not waiting to be told to enter.
Cai and Gordon, dressed in traditional Nydian garb, waited near her mother’s desk. Francie sat in one of the chairs close to the fireplace. She snapped her book shut and rose to her feet when Neala entered.
“Quick, Mother, call the chief. We’ve been invaded,” Neala teased.
“Who’s the comedian now?” Cai said.
Their outfits almost matched hers—although they wore white, and had no veil. Instead, they wore a rimless cap embroidered with gold thread. Their robes also had hoods, but evidently Nydian men were not required to wear them the way women were. She glanced down at their feet, surprised to see their toes.
“I hope none of us have to do any running,” she said.
Her mother walked around her heavy, gold desk and took Neala’s hands in hers. Neala was glad to have the veil between them to mask her eyes. Maybe her mother wouldn’t notice how bruised they looked from lack of sleep.
“I’m very proud of you,” her mother said, wrapping her arms around Neala and pulling her close. She grabbed onto her mother, hugging her tightly not wanting to let her go. Her eyes blurred a little and a tickle started at the back of her throat.
“I love you, Mama,” Neala said against her mother’s neck.
“I love you too, my girl,” her mother whispered fiercely against her ear. Her mother sniffed and quickly swiped at her cheek as she pulled away from her daughter.
“There’s something I want you to do for me,” Neala said, reaching for the sharp brass letter opener on her mother’s desk.
“What, my darling?” her mother asked.
“If anything strange should happen with the canvas. Anything at all. I want you to take this knife and drag it across the back of the canvas. It’s just a precaution. I don’t want anyone following us – in or out of the painting.”
“I thought it was a one way passage,” Francie said.
“It is. Or at least it should be. Just—please. Slash it.”
Neala handed the letter opener to her mother and the Queen nodded. Francie sighed and pulled her sister into a tight hug. “You’ll do everything the chief says?”
“Of course,” Neala whispered. “I’ll be fine.” Francie gave her one last squeeze and let her go.
Cai nodded. “Ready.”
Neala walked to the easel and yanked the cover off the canvas. The painting was identical to the beach scene that she and Peter had passed through in the old ruins. Gordon’s forehead wrinkled and he tilted his head one way then the other.
“This is it?” Gordon asked.
“Yes.” Neala nodded. “So this is how it works. Gordon, I’m going hold the painting at an angle like this,” she said, placing the canvas in front of her and angling it towards her by about twenty degrees. “And you’re going to step through it. You may be sick to your stomach and wobbly when you get there. It feels a little like you’ve been pulled apart and put back together. Just so you’re aware.”
“Fantastic!” Gordon chuckled. “Can’t wait.”
“Glad to hear your enthusiasm, Captain,” Cai said dryly.
“I’m always enthusiastic about my job, sir.” Gordon clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “All right, let’s get going, then.”
“Secure the area as soon as you land,” Cai said, using his chief commander’s voice. “The princess and I will go together.” He gave her a pointed look as if he expected a fight.
“I agree,” Neala nodded. “We should go together.”
“Good,” Cai said. “Let’s get started.”
Gordon grinned, bobbing his eyebrows up and down as he stepped through the passageway. “Nothing to it,” he said, just before he disappeared.
Neala leaned the canvas against the easel. She sighed and took Cai’s hand. “You ready for this?”
“Of course,” Cai said. “We’ll be back tomorrow, Your Majesty. Hopefully with more information.”
“Just come back,” the Queen said. “That’s all I ask.”
Cai nodded, holding fast to Neala’s hand. They faced the painting together. He raised his foot and pressed it through the canvas. She heard him curse under his breath just before he dragged her along with him. The bombardment of elements pulsated through her body, almost overwhelming her. Halfway through, she wanted to go back to the safety of the palace, but then she was falling, stretching out her arms to stop from landing face first. She never hit the ground, though. Cai caught her and knelt beside her as her stomach heaved.
The hot, Nydian sun beat down on them and sweat immediately formed along her back. Even in the lightweight linen, the heat burned against her skin. The veil covering her face didn’t help. Cai and Gordon ushered her towards the rock face where at least there wou
ld be some shade.
“What time is it?” Neala asked.
Cai consulted the timepiece he kept in his pocket. “Just after one.”
Gordon reached into his bag and unfolded a map of the Nydian realm. There were two small towns and one mid-sized city, not far from the beach. Gordon used a ruler and a pencil to determine how far.
“A’Lumara is the city,” Gordon said. “It’s about fifteen miles from here, sir.”
“It looks like we’ll pass through this little town first,” Cai said, tapping the map. Gordon nodded.
“What are you thinking, sir?” Gordon asked.
“I’m thinking we may need to stop here and try to reach my contact. Get water, maybe food. Fourteen miles is quite a long journey on foot.”
Gordon and Neala both nodded. She did not relish the thought of walking that far in these shoes. Cai pulled three slim, metal squares from his pocket and handed one to each of them. “These are communicators. All you need to do is tap it and talk into it. We’ll identify ourselves by the numbers one through three. Obviously, I’m one. Gordon, you’ll be two, Highness, you’re three. Tap it to talk.” Cai touched his forefinger to the metal and brought it to his mouth. “Two—this is one. Hear me, two?”
Gordon looked at the square in his hand and a smile stretched his thin lips. “Well, look at that — if it isn’t my old friend the chief. You said just tap it?”
“Yes, old friend about-to-be-court-marshaled,” Cai said, unamused.
Gordon tapped the metal. “One, this is two, go ahead.”
“Good.” Cai tapped the metal. “Three, this is one.”
Neala put the metal close to her mouth, finding it cumbersome. “One, this is three,” she said. “This is the best we could come up with for communication? What happens if we’re in a crowd and don’t want to be overheard?”
Cai scowled. “Do you have a solution, Highness, or just a complaint?”
Gordon took a seat on one of the rocks. “Ah, smell that air,” he said a little too loudly. “Makes me want to take a swim.”