The Caged Queen

by Kristen Ciccarelli

  Yes, she thought. My people are destitute now. Thanks to you.

  “You’ve changed,” he said softly.

  Roa bristled. Her fingers curled into her palms.

  “And you . . .” She tried to hold back the anger and grief welling up inside her but couldn’t. It came rushing forth like a river. “You act as if nothing has changed. Playing gods and monsters with my father? Climbing up onto this roof like—like it never happened? Like you don’t remember what you did?”

  He turned his head abruptly to look at her.

  “You think I came here because I forget?” He sounded angry and sad all at once. “I came here because I remember, Roa. I will never stop remembering.” And then, more softly: “I think about her every day.”

  Roa sat up sharply. What was she thinking, coming up here? She didn’t want to talk to him. Not about Essie.

  She moved to leave, crawling carefully to the roof’s edge, then sat facing the garden with her back to Dax. She had just swung her feet over, her toes seeking the ladder rung below, when he said, so quietly, she almost missed it, “You have to live with the loss of her, and that’s the worst thing. But, Roa—I have to live knowing I took her from you. That because of me . . . she’s gone.”

  Roa paused, sitting at the edge of the roof with her bare feet on the uppermost rung of the ladder. She felt the heat of his gaze on her bare neck—like fire, burning her up.

  “Maybe this is silly,” he went on. “Maybe you think I don’t have a right. But I talk to her sometimes. On the roof, back at home. And here, tonight. She was always so easy to talk to.” His next words were barely a whisper. “You were always more difficult.”

  Roa didn’t turn to climb down. Instead, she sat motionless, facing the night. Tears pricked her eyes.

  “Why did you come here?” she whispered, staring out over the dark-drenched garden.

  She heard him sit up. Finally, she looked over her shoulder. His head was tilted back to the stars, spilled across the sky above them, and his eyes were closed. After several heartbeats, he sucked in a breath. “I’m here to tell you that I’m going to steal my father’s throne.”

  This was not at all what Roa expected.

  She lifted her feet from the ladder rung and turned around.

  “What?” she whispered, staring into his upturned face.

  Dax opened his eyes and looked down, catching her gaze with his.

  “Roa, I’ve come to ask—will you help me?”

  Six

  Roa looked from the site of their vanished camp to the king who thought he could cross the sand sea without proper provisions.

  Roa stood over him, trembling with anger.

  Just for a moment, though, instead of the dragon king covered in a layer of golden sand, another boy flickered before her eyes. Younger and shy. Like the summer she first met him.

  The memory of it glimmered like a mirage.

  Roa remembered him seated across the gods and monsters board, his eyes wide and curious, his ears jutting out in a way that might have been adorable if his presence in her home wasn’t such an annoying intrusion. He’d been foisted upon Roa after Essie talked her way out of entertaining him, and he’d come with one instruction: be his friend.

  Roa shook off the memory.

  This wasn’t that boy. This was a man too stupid not to walk straight into a sandstorm for the sake of a horse.

  “I’ve never met a more senseless king.”

  Slowly, Dax rose, pushing the hood of his mantle back from his face. His eyes fixed on her, pupils shrinking in the dazzling sunlight. “How many kings have you met, exactly?”

  Roa gritted her teeth. Was this a joke to him?

  “You never leave camp in a storm. Not ever.”

  “Stop shouting at me.”

  “I’m not shouting!”

  “I couldn’t leave Oleander—”

  “The horse doesn’t matter, Dax! If a horse gets lost in the storm, we can buy another!”

  “She’s my sister’s horse,” he said. “She matters to me.”

  Roa stepped in close. “Horses are expendable. Kings are not.”

  “I said”—he held her gaze—“she matters to me.”

  His voice was a warning, daring her to challenge him again.

  Roa looked to Oleander. The mare shook the sand out of her mane, oblivious.

  It struck her, then.

  His sister’s horse . . .

  Asha was on the run. Dax was unlikely to ever see her again. Oleander was the only link he had left to his sister.

  Roa stepped back, her anger fizzling out. It was then that she felt the watching eyes. Looking over his shoulder, she found the soldats covered in sand. Their hands on their hilts as they watched the outlander queen belittle their king.

  Swallowing, Roa lowered her voice and motioned over his shoulder. “Everything’s gone.”

  Dax turned to look. After a moment, he said, “We’ll have to make do.”

  Make do? thought Roa. Is he truly so senseless?

  “We’ll stay sheltered during the day. We’ll ration water.”

  “How will we stay sheltered, Dax? We don’t have any tents. Nor do we have any water to ration. Nor do we have any horses.”

  Except Poppy and Oleander.

  Dax fell silent, thinking. But Roa didn’t have time for him to come up with a plan. She knew this desert. She knew the chances of surviving beneath its scorching sun without shelter or water or horses. Knew that once the sun set, the temperature would plummet, bringing the kind of cold that killed men and women in their sleep.

  Their destination—his mother’s abode—was still a day’s ride away. Built by the former dragon king for his wife, it had been intended as a private place for her to retreat to. From there, it was another full day’s ride to Firgaard.

  They wouldn’t make it to Dax’s mother’s abode on foot by tonight. They wouldn’t make it there at all.

  In the distance, she watched Lirabel and Jas pull a single bedroll out of the sand.

  They walked all day, trying to keep a steady pace. But without water and shelter, with the sun loud and hot in the sky, they’d slowed, and then slowed again. It was dusk now. Roa’s vision had long ago started to blur, and now her tongue was starting to swell—a sign of severe dehydration.

  It was about to get worse, though: When the sun disappeared, they wouldn’t have any way to keep warm. No tents. No blankets. Nothing to make a fire.

  Roa glanced over her shoulder to make sure the caravan wasn’t falling too far behind, then turned her attention back to the darkening horizon. To the cold that was rising.

  Roa cursed these useless Firgaardians. She cursed herself for having to rely on them.

  Lirabel stepped up to Roa’s side, scattering her curses.

  The two friends looked into the distance, where the sun was sinking into the sand. Lirabel turned her eyes on Roa. “Do you think we’ll make it?”

  “Not if the sun sets first,” said Roa, staring straight ahead at the golden orb disappearing beneath the horizon. Soon the night would drop like a curtain.

  “We’re making camp,” Dax’s voice interrupted.

  Both girls spun to stare at his dark silhouette. He had Oleander’s reins gathered in his fist, his face stony.

  “The guards and staff all have heatstroke.”

  Roa knew this. Two had fainted already, and one had vomited twice.

  “We need to stop and make camp,” Dax pressed.

  If they stopped now, with no fire or tents to keep the death chill away, they wouldn’t wake in the morning.

  Roa shook her head. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Everyone is dehydrated, Roa. They need to rest.”

  Roa narrowed her eyes at him. “The longer it takes us, the less likely we are to survive. We need to move quickly.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? They keep fainting.”

  “Then we leave them behind.”

  He stared at her, horrified. But Dax didn’t k
now this desert.

  “If we stop and make camp for the sake of a few, it endangers the entire caravan,” Roa said. “But if we press on through the night, we gain more ground and keep warmer on the move, increasing the chances of staying alive and making it to our destination.”

  This was the sand sea. Ruthlessness was key to survival.

  But Dax didn’t think like a scrublander. Dax had lived an easy, pampered life. One bolstered by the taxes—and then the sanctions—his father imposed on Roa’s people. He’d never had to make a life-or-death decision. Other people did that for him.

  He loomed over her. Due to her diminished vision, he was a blurry shape in the darkening haze of dusk. “I’m not going to risk the lives under my care for the sake of your pride.”

  “You are risking—” Roa stopped herself. “My pride?”

  Roa’s grip on Poppy’s reigns tightened. Sensing her mood, the horse pressed her ears flat against her head.

  Lirabel moved closer to the queen, rubbing Poppy’s neck to calm her. “Roa’s right. It’s far more dangerous if we stop.”

  “I don’t agree,” said Jas, coming up behind them, holding Lirabel’s gaze. “I think we should make camp. None of these people are in a state to keep going.”

  Roa glared at her brother. “If we don’t continue on, we all die.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” said Dax, turning back.

  Roa was about to say that in stopping for the night, he’d already determined what his chances would be. He would never make it to his mother’s desert home. He wouldn’t even make it to morning.

  But before she could tell him so, a familiar sound pierced the encroaching night: the high-pitched screak of a hawk.

  Roa’s heart kicked. She spun, searching the darkening sky.

  “Did you hear that?” she whispered, afraid to trust her own ears.

  She reached for the hum—which was still muted inside her.

  But no, it was real. Because a heartbeat later, Essie’s thoughts burst into her mind.

  I found you, Roa.

  It was as if someone struck a match and lit a glowing fire inside her.

  “Essie . . .”

  Roa pulled Poppy away, scouring the skies until she saw it: a white bird speeding toward her, as if diving out of the stars.

  You were in danger—Essie’s voice bled through Roa’s mind—and I heard you. I had to make sure you were safe. . . .

  Where were you? Roa called to her sister, who was getting closer by the heartbeat.

  In a flash of white feathers and silver eyes, Essie crashed into Roa, her sharp claws scraping her sister’s skin. I—I don’t know. I couldn’t find my way. I couldn’t remember where home was.

  Roa drew her sister’s feathered form against her chest, holding her close. Keeping her safe. A soft bundle of warmth in her arms.

  And then I heard your voice, and it seemed so far away. . . . I didn’t understand. How could it get so far away?

  Normally Essie hated it when Roa held her, restricting her from flying. Now, she pressed herself close to Roa’s breast, letting her sister hold her as she trembled. Her tiny heart drumming against her sister’s ribs.

  It’s all right. Roa stroked Essie’s feathers as the hum glowed dimly between them. You’re here now.

  When Essie stopped trembling, she squirmed out of her sister’s arms and flew to her shoulder. Her claws dug in harder than usual, piercing Roa’s skin. As if she could just hold on tightly enough, maybe whatever confusion had taken hold of her wouldn’t be able to take her again.

  And then a voice echoed in the distance.

  Both of them looked to the west.

  I brought help, Essie explained.

  Pinpricks of light appeared on the horizon, moving ever closer. They were torches held in the hands of scrublanders—her people—racing on horseback toward them. And leading them all was a young man, his face obscured by a sandskarf.

  Roa didn’t need to see his face to know who he was.

  “Theo,” Dax muttered from behind her. Roa had forgotten he was there.

  The moment Theo saw her, he broke away from the others, hurtling straight for her, a torch held high in his hand.

  Roa kicked her own horse into a gallop, her heart thundering in unison with Poppy’s hooves. Essie flew off, trailing close behind her.

  Theo called her name again, and his voice was like a fire, driving out the cold.

  Bringing her home.

  Three Months Previous

  “This is the only map you have?”

  A soft hiss followed by a loud thunk answered her.

  Roa and Lirabel looked up just as Dax lowered the longbow. Beside him, a freckled young man grinned with pleasure, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the whorl in the tree now pierced by Dax’s arrow. This boy, Roa had learned upon meeting him, was Torwin.

  “Very good,” said Torwin. “Now go fetch it.”

  Dax raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Go on.” Torwin motioned to the tree with his chin. “Part of learning how to shoot is having to retrieve your arrows.”

  “Is that so?” said Dax.

  “It is,” Roa said from the ground where she and Lirabel crouched. “Papa used to pinch our ears if we left our arrows behind for the servants to clean up.”

  Bolstered by her allegiance, Torwin laughed. “Did you hear that? Do you want your ears pinched by her father?”

  Dax rolled his eyes, but went to fetch the arrow.

  Torwin flashed Roa a half smile. Roa flashed one back. But it died on her lips at the glint of the silver band encircling his throat.

  The sight of it was like a cold blade in her belly.

  Unlike scrublanders, draksors kept slaves. Half a century ago, an army from the north—a group of people called the skral—came to conquer Firgaard. They failed, and instead of sending them back where they came from, the dragon queen—Dax’s grandmother—enslaved them.

  Torwin, Roa had learned, was one such slave, owned by the cruelest man she had ever met. It was just another reason she’d decided to help Dax bring down his father: no human being should be owned by another.

  “And, yes,” said Dax, jogging back after pulling the arrow from the whorl. “That’s the only map we have.”

  Roa looked down to the parchment spread across the ground beneath her. It was tearing along the creases from being folded one too many times and whole sections were smudged out.

  Then it’ll have to do, she thought.

  Roa tapped the city of Darmoor, then looked to Lirabel, who crouched beside her. “What about here?”

  Lirabel’s curls were unbound tonight, and her earned bow was resting on the ground beside her. She smelled like rosewater.

  “It’s smaller than Firgaard,” Roa said. “And look: no walls.”

  Lirabel’s gaze moved from the walled capital of Firgaard, over the Rift mountains, to where Roa’s finger pointed: Darmoor. A port on the sea.

  Lirabel smiled a slow smile. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I think you’re brilliant.”

  There were too many armed soldats within the walls of Firgaard. If they wanted to pull off Dax’s revolt, they needed to cut down their numbers.

  “How important is Darmoor to the king?” Roa asked Dax while staring at the map.

  “Very,” came the reply, followed by another thunk! “Roughly half our food and supplies come from Darmoor.”

  “And if it came under siege?”

  Roa and Lirabel looked up, waiting for his answer. Dax paused at the tree, his hand wrapped around the arrow shaft—stuck just below the whorl this time.

  “My father would send his army to reclaim it.”

  “Then I think Roa’s solved your problem,” said Lirabel.

  Before Roa could bask in her triumph, though, Essie’s voice broke through her mind.

  Roa!

  Essie had been put on lookout. They were in the ruins of the House of Shade, where no one ever came. As a p
recaution, Essie had been sent to watch the front entrance.

  He’s coming!

  Roa shot to her feet. Who?

  Essie didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Because as Roa turned toward the half-crumbled wall behind her, she saw him.

  Theo stood in the moonlight, gripping one of his earned swords. The second hung from the sheath at his belt. Both had pommels carved into the shape of a leaping deer.

  I’m sorry, Roa. Essie dived out of the moonlit sky and onto Roa’s outstretched fist. I fell asleep and only woke as he was walking through the entrance.

  “What in all the skies is he doing here?” Theo growled, pointing the tip of the blade at the son of the king.

  This was Roa’s fault. She’d stayed up late talking to Dax on the garden shed roof and by the time she returned to the study, Theo wasn’t in the best of moods.

  When she told him she was going to Firgaard with the son of the king, Theo was furious.

  And the wedding? he’d demanded.

  We’ll postpone it, she’d told him. Until I get back.

  For several heartbeats, he’d stared at her like she wasn’t the same girl she’d always been. Like he didn’t know her at all. Then he got to his feet and walked away.

  And now she’d made things worse by bringing Dax here, to the House of Shade. Her and Theo’s meeting place.

  “Theo . . . ,” she said, rising in front of Lirabel, who snatched up the map and folded it quickly. “I can explain.”

  Can you? asked Essie, eyeing the heir of Sky. Roa could feel her sister’s agitation buzzing in her own blood. He looks like he wants to bash Dax’s head in far more than he wants an explanation.

  Dax stepped past her.

  Roa reached to stop him.

  “Theo,” said Dax, avoiding Roa’s grasp, “why don’t you put down the sword.”

  “Or,” Theo growled, “you can pick one up and we can finally settle this.”

  Oh no, thought Essie.

  Roa and Lirabel exchanged a look.

  Fire burned in Theo’s eyes. “You’re no different from the tyrants before you, Dax. Coming to our home under a banner of peace, expecting us to give you everything you ask for. But it’s never enough, is it? You always want more.”

  Torwin stepped into the space between Roa and Lirabel. Under his breath, he asked, “How good is Theo with that sword?”