by Wendy Wang
“Neala Middlebyrne, princess of the five realms,” he said softly as he held out the ring. “I proffer my heart and all my worldly goods. Will you be my wife?”
Neala’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes fixed on the gold and ruby ring. The band of twisted gold wires supported a gold bezel with delicate scroll work around the stone. Inside the bezel was a large, smooth ruby. It glinted in the sunlight, reminding her of the ruby in her pendant. She held her left hand up and he slid the ring onto her third finger.
“It’s a little large,” he frowned and wiggled it back and forth. “It was my grandmother’s.”
“It’s all right. I can fix it,” she smiled. Her thumb and forefinger gently rubbed across the band as she focused on one thought—size this ring to me. Before his eyes, the metal complied, shrinking until it fit perfectly.
Cai tipped her chin up. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” She stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. He brushed his lips against hers, softly at first. As the kiss deepened, feelings inside her awakened fully for the first time. She loved this man. This man who argued with her and pushed her to her limits. This man who made her laugh and protected her. This man who would die for her.
“I love you, Neala,” he said, pulling away breathlessly. His forehead rested against hers.
“I love you too, Caius Declan. And I will marry you on one condition.” She leaned her head back a little so she could look into his face.
“What condition?” He narrowed his eyes, and a wary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“That the ceremony will be simple and private. This is no time for a large state affair.” She braced inwardly for an argument.
His face lighted with his smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Really?”
“If that’s what you want, it’s fine by me,” he said. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. She felt his lips brush the side of her head. “Your mother might be more difficult to convince, though.”
“My mother will do whatever we wish.” She breathed him in, the wool of his coat scratching against her cheek. “We just have to be firm and united.”
“I’ll always stand united with you.” His arms tightened around her and he tucked her head beneath his chin.
“Just remember you said that the next time we argue.”
“I have no doubt you’ll bring it up if I forget,” he laughed.
A loud screeching came from behind them and within seconds, they pulled apart, both flinched and seized their weapon.
Gordon stood at the open door with his hands in the air. “Whoa, looks like we need to grease that hinge,” he said dryly. Cai blew out his breath. His shoulders slumped slightly and he re-holstered his baton. Neala slid her dagger back into its sheath and waited for her heart to make its way from her throat back into her chest.
“I left explicit instructions that we were not to be disturbed, Captain,” Cai said gruffly.
“I know, sir, but I thought you would want to know that the Queen has arrived. So has your mother and the governor of Iberebeth. Do you want to give them the tour or shall I?” Gordon asked.
“No, I’ll take care of them. You take the princess down to the commencement theater and show her where she’ll be sitting,” Cai said.
“I won’t be sitting with you?” Neala asked, confused. “I thought I was your guest.”
“You are my guest. But I’ll be on the stage with your mother and the governors making speeches, giving out diplomas and batons.” Cai rubbed his hand gently up and down the top of her arm as if to console her. “I thought you would be less bored if you could actually watch the ceremony. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course.” She forced a smile, a little sad that she would be away from him, even if it was only for a couple of hours.
“You go with the captain and I’ll see you after the ceremony?” he said.
She nodded, stood up on her toes one more time and pecked him on the lips. “Don’t say a word to my mother yet.”
“I won’t. We’ll do it together.” He brushed his folded fingers across her cheek.
“Good. I’ll see you later, then.”
Gordon bowed his head slightly and gave Neala a sly grin. “After you, Highness.”
“Not one word about what you just saw, Captain,” she said, passing into the constricted space of the stairway.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, ma’am. I didn’t see a thing.” Gordon grinned and winked. “Take care on these steps. They can be very slick.”
“A building full of wardens and not one of you thought to fix that?” She turned to give him an exasperated look and found him hunched over, clinging to the center post of the winding stairs. Her hand pressed lightly against his chest, signaling him to stop and she removed her dagger from its sheath.
“What are you doing, Highness?” Gordon asked, wary of her shiny blade.
“Hold on.” Neala took a deep breath, and cleared her mind before picturing the uneven stones where nearly a thousand years of use had left a slippery groove worn into their center. One focused thought and the touch of her dagger to the step where Gordon stood behind her. A rumble shook through the tower.
“Highness.” Gordon’s hands gripped the walls, his voice full of alarm.
The step beneath her feet wobbled as the rut in the stone filled and leveled. She ran her slipper over the next step down to make sure the granite had obeyed her command.
“That should make it easier,” she said and moved a little faster.
“All right, then you’ve proved your point,” Gordon said. “But I’d appreciate it if you at least use your hands on the wall if for no other reason than to humor me. I can’t have you tumbling down on your head. How would I ever explain that to the chief?”
Neala chuckled and put her hand against the wall. “Does this make you happy, Captain?”
“Very,” he said. “It’s better to be safe than end up as a heap of satin at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Indeed,” Neala laughed.
A few minutes later, Gordon guided her through the maze of halls, leading her to the back entrance of an open air, semi-circular theater on the east side of the Academy building. The stage had been set up with her mother’s traveling throne centered between the governors’ chairs with two tufted benches flanking it. A small table at one end of wide stone platform held dozens of stacked, long black boxes. The new wardens’ batons.
“That’s where the cadets sit,” Gordon said, pointing to the center seats which had been cordoned off with thick, velvet ropes. “Parents and family on the left. Royal Highnesses on the right.” He steered her to a canopy that had been set up just for her. A long, tufted cushion had been placed on the stone bench for her comfort.
“Well, this isn’t ridiculous,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes at the separation.
Gordon maneuvered her towards the canopy and she took a seat. Gordon stood to her right, his baton in hand and his eyes watchful. The seats began to fill with people and despite the canopy, Neala wished she had brought something to fan herself with. Soon a band of musicians took seats in front of the stage. When the music began to play, the cadets marched out of the building, keeping perfect time with the sound of the drum. Like stiff little wind-up toys, their arms swung in a perfect arc as they kicked their legs out straight. They marched in formation, stopped and saluted their families before winding their way up the steps. They filed into each of the rows and remained standing.
The governors, Cai, the Commander of the Academy and the High Commander of the Wardens climbed the steps on the other side. They all stood in front of their chairs until her mother stepped onto the stage and took her seat on her traveling throne. Once her mother was in place, the High Commander took the podium and the rounds of speeches started.
Nineteen
After nearly an hour, Nea
la shifted on the hard bench. Despite the cushion, her behind and the backs of her legs ached and she resorted to putting her hands underneath her thighs to get the blood circulating again. How could her mother sit there so composed with her head held high, looking like she cared about every word uttered from the mouths of each speaker? Not for the first time in her life, she was grateful to be last in line for the throne. Even though she knew all the formal protocols, they drove her crazy. When she did have to attend a formal function, which she made sure was not very often, she followed the rules, barely. To be as regal and diplomatic as her mother all the time—well, that was just madness. Finally, Cai stood and began reading from a roster. Her mother stood and the two governors moved to her left side. One read the name on the boxes and the other handed the box to the Queen, who then shook the hand of the graduating cadet, said a few words of what Neala could only imagine were encouragement and congratulations.
Neala traced the twisted gold band with her thumb and she admired the ruby.
“How much longer, Gordon?” She fidgeted.
“Not too much. The cadets will receive their batons and diplomas, then they pledge their oath to the Queen. Everybody cheers and we all go to the dining hall for cake and punch,” Gordon said, rocking back and forth on his heels.
She straightened her back and stretched her neck, her eyes drifting to the ramparts and the tower where just a little more than an hour ago, Cai had made his declaration to her. She couldn’t wait to show her mother and Francie the ring. They would both be happy with the match, even though there was no formal ceremony.
A cold finger of warning touched her heart. It spread through her chest, sending a shiver crawling down her spine. Four men dressed in black robes raced across the parapet. Two stopped, taking a stance between two stone teeth of the wall. They loaded their bows and took aim at the stage below. She jumped to her feet and unsheathed her dagger.
“Highness?” Gordon said behind her. She ran to the end of the row, towards the stairs that led down to where the band played celebratory music to accompany the graduates.
“Mother!” Neala shouted, but it was drowned out by the explosion from the flaming arrow. Another explosion rocked the theater throwing her backwards. She landed hard on the steps, whacking her elbow. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth and her tongue ached. She shook her head, trying to clear the ringing. Gordon was beside her, his hand wrapped tightly around her upper arm, lifting her to her feet.
“We have to get you out of here.” He sounded muffled as if she were listening to him with her head submerged in water.
“No.” She jerked her arm away.
“Highness, my job is to keep you safe,” Gordon said. They both ignored the screams and shouts around them. Smoke stung her eyes and burned in her throat.
“No one can do that, Gordon.” She took a step away from him. “You know I can take care of myself. I have to get to Cai,” she pleaded. Gordon grit his teeth, his mouth becoming a thin line—something she had never seen before.
“I can’t risk it.” He pulled a binding rope from his pocket and grabbed her arm hard, slapping the twist of jute across her wrist. It automatically wrapped around her arm, and Gordon cuffed the loose end around one of his wrists and started to drag her away from the spectator seating, away from the screaming crowd. For a few seconds, everything slowed down. Another arrow whistled overhead and they both ducked. Gordon squatted to the ground, yanking her down with him, shielding her head and body as another explosion mushroomed behind them. A crater formed in the seats. Rock and debris, smoke and blood rained down around them. Gordon’s heart thundered near her ear and he had twisted his hand so that he could hold hers. If they died here, she knew she wouldn’t be alone. She also knew she could not let him stop her. When he finally pulled his body from hers, he said, “Let’s get you someplace safe.”
Neala stayed near the ground as he rose to his feet. He looked down in wonder at the neatly cut binding rope, dangling from his arm. “Highness.” He scowled, his tone a warning.
“Sorry, Captain.” She sprung to her feet, pushing him backwards with both hands before bolting towards the stage. Another explosion somewhere above her head nearly knocked her over. She glanced back at Gordon. He had fired his baton at the invaders and his fireball had collided with one of their arrows, raining down sparks and more smoke.
He yelled, waving her on. “Go on then. I’ll cover you.”
Her heart thudded its way into her throat, the sound of blood rushing in her ears, competing with the ringing caused by the explosions. Wardens flooded from the building. People ran in all directions and the only thing she could think about was Cai and the ring on her finger. How could this be happening? She glanced up again and more men in black robes like those worn by Nydian men lined up on the parapet. Some held bows and arrows, others spears and blow guns. Her eyes followed the line of the wall, past the ramparts to the tower were Cai had given her his heart. Even at this distance, she knew him. Peter. So many thoughts flooded her head but they all distilled into one – He’d finally made good on his threats.
Her mouth went dry watching him mount a long cylinder on the top of the wall. Her fingers curled into fists and if she could have breathed fire she would have. He peered through an ocular, taking aim and she stared at him.
You wanted a fight – well you’ve got one.
She would swear later that he had grinned at her, as if he had heard her. The cylinder recoiled with what sounded like a thunderclap. Smoke circled it as the projectile shot out, aimed at her. She gritted her teeth, her body alight with the energy that Cai had taught her to tap into. Fingers on her left hand tingled with the flames and she raised her dagger. A bolt of lightning ushered from its tip as she swiped the dagger across the sky. The electrified whip crackled, wrapping around the projectile. With the flick of her wrist, she yanked it down out of the sky and sent it sailing back towards the tower. The lightning carried it all the way and it exploded when it hit the wall. Peter disappeared in the smoke and debris. Neala turned, scanning for any sign of Cai or her mother. The world slowed down and her feet suddenly turned to stones so heavy she could not lift them when she saw the green silk swaying and ruffling in the wind. Black metal batons lay scattered on the ground, surrounding the heap of fabric like children’s toys. Some of the paper diplomas burned while others bounced along the ground, carried away by some invisible force. Her mother’s hand, slender and pale, decorated only by a thin, gold band on her third finger poked from beneath the fabric.
“Mama? Mama!” Her words sounded distant and muffled as if someone else were speaking them from another room. She raced as fast as she could towards her mother’s crumpled body, but it felt as if she were moving through sludge. When she finally fell to her knees next to her mother, she folded the fabric away from her mother’s bloodied face. If the numbness had not poured itself into her limbs and torso, she knew she might have fallen prostrate with grief and never gotten up from the spot. Peter would’ve won, then, and she would not have that, not as long as she could breathe. Something touched her shoulder and instinctively she swung at it with her dagger.
“Neala! It’s me!” Cai screamed but it was barely a whisper. It took a few seconds for her to register. This was Cai. This was her love. Blood streaked the side of his face and his left arm hung at a funny angle, but he was alive. Tears stung her eyes, burning their way onto her cheeks and she threw her arms around his neck. He winced and cried out and she immediately let him go, scanning his body for the source pain.
“You’re injured,” she said, her hand cupping his cheek, wiping at the blood. “We must get you out of here.”
“We should get both of you out of here,” Gordon said, approaching them. “At least get you to cover, sir.”
“Don’t worry about me, Captain.” Cai grimaced. “We need to get the princess someplace safe.”
“The palace?” Gordon asked. “Has more defenses in place.”
“I’m not going an
ywhere,” Neala said. “Not as long as Peter Declan’s breathing.”
I can hear you again.
Neala glanced around, looking for the source of the voice in her head. She knew it was Peter, but where was he?
Show yourself.
Look up.
Neala raised her eyes towards the parapet and there he stood, glaring down at her.
That was an interesting trick with the lightning. You’ve been practicing.
Why don’t you come down here and I’ll show you everything I’ve learned.
Oh, there’s plenty of time for that. All you have to do is surrender.
You first.
You’ve been training. I figured as much from our last meeting. I like you this way. We could be a good team, you and I. A match. If you’re still interested.
Oh, I found my match and he is not you.
You’re going to make this hard aren’t you?
A boom resounded in the distance, shaking the ground. Cai almost fell forward, but she caught him. She wrapped his arm around her neck and leaned her body against his.
“That was the palace, Highness,” Gordon said, sounding alarmed.
“I know,” she said. “We have to get Cai someplace safe.”
“I’m fine,” Cai protested.
“No you’re not,” Neala said.
You better hurry home, Princess. Peter’s voice echoed through her head, taunting her.
“The tunnels,” she said.
“What tunnels?” Gordon asked.
“There are tunnels that go underneath the city. Some go from the wardens’ base to the palace. Peter showed them to me. That’s how I bypassed you when I wanted to leave the palace,” she said.
“All right,” Gordon said, his voice edging towards anger. “I’ll stop and wonder about that later. Right now, we need to get the chief someplace where he can lie down.”
Neala looked around the chaos. The explosions had stopped and the ringing in her ears had subsided. Craters dotted the amphitheater’s seating, the stone benches disintegrated into gaping wounds surrounded by the bodies of young men and women and their parents. Some were dead and some were broken, crying out for help. She struggled with Cai’s weight as his knees buckled.