The Last Steward

by Janelle Garrett

  Of course, they wouldn’t fool a Hooded. Or any Jattalian warrior with half a brain and eyesight for spotting disguised muscles and stern looks.

  Priva looked at Callum again, who appeared unconcerned, if not happy.

  “Don’t let your guard down,” he told her, but when she sent him a withering look, he clamped his mouth shut. Fine, if she wasn’t going to appreciate his concern for her, he would keep his thoughts to himself.

  “You were visited last night,” Callum said. His heart thudded. How did she know that? He frowned at her, gesturing back toward Nigel and Perion, but Callum just raised an eyebrow. “Whose idea do you think all that was, dear brother?”

  “You’re speaking nonsense!” Liar, if anyone caught wind of what his brothers were hatching and notified the King –

  “I did, you thickskull,” she responded, answering her own question. “Who do you think requested Nigel and Perion? I’m not a complete idiot, Priva.”

  Priva looked back at the two men following him, confusion swirling in his head. “You arranged all this? Callum, I think you’d better tell me what’s going on, step by step, word for word.”

  A grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I knew you would never come back home with me if you knew.”

  “Why did you leave in the first place? You wanted your powers taken from you!”

  None of this made sense. Her actions were duplicitous. Was he right to have just accepted her presence on this mission, instead of fighting to convince the King that he should go alone?

  “Let me explain, Priva. Calm yourself.” Her tone was smug, face mildly self-satisfied.

  “I am calm, dearest Sister,” he said through clenched teeth, trying to keep his anger in check.

  “As you well know, Jasper was the obvious choice for Inheritor. He hates accessors only marginally less than does our father. Hence, my desire to supplant him. I headed to the Dreadwood to escape him and Father. I figured I would accomplish several things: first, I could possibly have my powers taken from me. A bargain, of sorts, with the Dreads. They can have my power, and I could go free.”

  “Well, how did that turn out for you?” His tone was caustic, but he didn’t care. Creator, what had she been thinking? Plotting, conniving, and manipulating this whole time?

  She raised her head, but to her credit, didn’t respond to his anger in kind. “Second, whether my power was taken or not, I knew I could find the Sisterhood and either join them if I still had my powers, or convince the Benefactress to speak with Father about naming another Inheritor.”

  “And just how were you going to do that? What interest would the Sisterhood have in Eastlandian affairs?”

  She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “There is much you still don’t know, Priva. The previous Benefactress had plans, big plans, until her murder. She sided with the Triumphant King.” She raised a finger. “On the surface. But the reality was that she had an agreement with Father.”

  “To what?” he asked, the ominous tone she had taken grating on his nerves. This was exactly why he hated plots and secrets.

  “Why, to overthrow Polbine Voltaire. Isn’t it obvious? Father provided the army, the Benefactress provided the eyes inside the palace. As it turns out, it would appear she was playing both sides.”

  “To choose last minute which one she would stand with.” Now it made sense. Just like an accessor, to lie and manipulate to the very end. No wonder Constance had found it necessary to kill her.

  Even thinking about the Mother shot a pang through his core. In the end, she had been self-sacrificing.

  “Exactly. But even without her, we still stand a chance, especially if you agree to join us. Father will not keep his word, as I’m sure Josslea told you.” Callum stopped and gripped Priva’s arm with a tight hand. “Think, Priva. All Lands safe for accessors. Unity. Peace. You can achieve that.”

  “Why me?” he asked, removing her hand and striding down the path. “I know you think it’s a good idea because I remain a warrior, untainted from political agenda. But I’m an accessor, Callum. The Finders will revolt and use the Rift to bring me down. The clans are still superstitious. They hate accessors, too. Having one sit on the Stone Throne? Madness.”

  “Who do you propose, then?” she asked, frowning. “The rest of our brothers see the wisdom of placing you on the Throne. They know that of them all, you were given the most freedom. You’re a hero, of sorts. If we can get the people to love you –ʺ

  “What, in a few days’ time? Is their love and loyalty so fickle?”

  “If you kill the Hooded, you will be a hero. And they have no lost love for our stern, bullheaded Father.”

  “Still, he has the clans in order, Callum. Mark my words, they will stand against me.”

  A knowing smile lit up her face, her expression filled with mischievous delight. “How long do you think we have been working on this, Priva? Many of the clans agree that a change is needed. Many of your siblings have been working on this for months.”

  Shocked, Priva stumbled and then halted in the middle of the path. He glanced back at Nigel and Perion, their faces blank. How much did they know? Who were they? Why did she trust them like this? He shoved his thoughts of them aside, turning to stare at Callum. He had no words.

  “Close your mouth, brother, before you eat a fly.”

  “Callum, this is dangerous. Very, very dangerous.” He glared at her. “How do I know I can trust you? Your actions thus far have been questionable, to say the least.”

  “Just because you find them so doesn’t mean they truly are. Think, Priva! Set aside your distrust for a moment. Our siblings see the benefit of their brother, the Sensor, leading us forward to a better future. Imagine! A Steward on the Stone Throne.”

  “I repeat: what of the Finders?”

  “They will be taken care of.”

  The off-handed way she spoke bothered him. “How?” He crossed his arms, fixing a stern look on his face. “If I am to agree to all of this, I want to know everything.”

  She gestured with her chin toward Nigel and Perion. “The Bladewielders stand with you. There will be blood shed on our sands, but –”

  “So, you will murder them.”

  “We are your blood brothers, Priva.” Perion stepped forward, hand over his heart. “We will follow where you lead. And the Finders have had it coming for generations of lying, killing, and inciting fear into the people.”

  “Just look where we are headed now,” Callum continued. “The Jattalians side with the Triumphant King because the King has allowed the murder of their people by our Finders. He has kept them under his thumb, heavily taxing their people, taxing imported goods, and even turning a blind eye to the illegal enslavement of their people.”

  Priva scoffed, shaking his head. “When have you ever cared about slavery?”

  A look crossed her face that he couldn’t quite place. It appeared that she was offended. “You don’t know anything about me.” She stalked away, clearly done with the conversation.

  Regret invaded him. He shouldn’t have spoken to her like that.

  He shook his head. She was full of surprises.

  Chapter Eleven

  Callum Car’abel

  Exhaustion was creeping into Callum’s limbs when they finally called it a night. She glanced at Priva, irritation clouding her judgment. Who did he think he was?

  She pushed the annoyance aside. He had justifiable reasons for doubting her. She had caused him a lot of trouble, after all. Almost a year of searching for her, only to be captured by the Dreads and then embroiled in the Sisterhood’s plots? She, too, would be a tinge grumpy about it.

  Nigel stepped closed to help pitch her tent. The fluttering in her chest at his closeness was followed by anger at herself. He was a Bladewielder, and far below her in every way. He hadn’t even been part of a wealthy or prestigious clan before joining the warrior clan. Yet he was often assigned as her guardian, and they had grown close before she had run. If he had been on duty when she h
ad made her escape, she wouldn’t have been able to slip away. He knew her too well. And it had taken little time at all to bring him onto her side against Jasper and Father.

  She needed to focus. She was no longer a girl running down the Fortress halls. She was plotting against the King, Liar’s teeth.

  Once her tent was erected she ducked inside. Priva hadn’t spoken to her since her sharp response to him, and she had no desire to continue trying to convince him of her plan. He was a reasonable man. Hopefully he would come around on his own, once he thought it through.

  Someone cleared their throat right outside the flap of the tent. Sighing, she gave up any hopes of resting. “What is it?”

  Priva pushed the flap aside and poked his head in. “I’m sorry I offended you.”

  At least he looked contrite. Priva rarely projected something he didn’t feel. That was part of the reason why she liked him. What you saw was what you got.

  She shrugged. “You need to learn to trust me.”

  He laughed, a deep sound that rumbled. “Put yourself in my position. Would you trust you?”

  He had a point.

  Apparently, the look on her face was humorous, for Priva laughed again, then gestured for her to come out. “We need to talk before you take your rest.”

  She obliged, joining the men around a small fire. Perion passed around dried meat and bread, and they ate as Priva outlined his plan. He sketched a map in the sand, using rocks and sticks for the villages and towns.

  “I know what they are doing. The Jattalians don’t want to engage us directly, hence they are striking at random in the south. Either they are waiting for reinforcements that were stranded or blown of course, or they are waiting for the Triumphant King.” He looked up at the Bladewielders, gesturing with the knife in his hand. “Nigel, find us a boat. Preferably something small and fast that we can take down the Passage Tide tomorrow.”

  “That seems too dangerous,” Perion interjected. “What if they head north and we run into them on the water?”

  “They won’t come north.” Priva shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “If they were going to, they would have already.”

  “Then why didn’t we take a boat from the Fortress to begin with?” Callum asked. “Didn’t we just waste an entire day?”

  “If they are smart, they would have a spy watching the harbor. It would have been too obvious to leave by boat, for they would have recognized us and sent word ahead.” Priva turned to the crude map, digging his knife into a stick. “Again, if I were them, I would strike here next.”

  “That’s further south again,” Nigel pointed out. “They are making their way inland from the last scouting report.”

  “Ah, yes. But some time has passed, and reinforcements will be arriving any day now. They need a larger city to make their own. Crowning is well fortified, has a small harbor, and is the main shipping point of goods and so forth.” Priva scratched his chin, appraising them. “Again, if I were leading this campaign, that is what I would do. Strike at random to instill fear and get a feel for the basic defenses, capture some slaves, and then head back south.”

  “If you’re correct, what is your plan, then?” Callum asked as a shiver of fear crept up her spine. As she listened, it suddenly became clear just how difficult their assignment was. Sure, two of them could access the Deep, and Priva, with his senses, could hear and see an enemy from miles away. But still, there were possibly thousands of enemies and finding the Hooded would be difficult.

  “Simple. Get there before they do, be there when they attack, and confront the Hooded.” He sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands as if he hadn’t a care in the sphere. “If we are lucky, we can stop them before they overtake Crowning.”

  “The Xeal clan will be making preparations for an attack,” Perion mused. “I hail from there. Elder Car’xeal is no fool. Even with a Hooded, the Jattalians will not find it easy to invade.”

  “Well, I aim to make it that much harder.” Priva turned his gaze to Callum. “Are you ready for this, sister? You have never been in battle. The King sent you here knowing full well you will probably die.”

  How altruistic of him.

  “I am not ready, but you know that.” She clenched her fists. Nigel shifted, looking away with a clenched jaw. “I have never used my powers for more than simple things. But I will try my best to do what needs to be done.”

  “I have thought of sending you away. Father would never know, and Perion and Nigel would not betray you.”

  “Damn well we won’t,” Nigel muttered, tone dark. “I second that idea.”

  “We are far enough away that no one will be the wiser,” Perion said with a nod of his head. “She could always wait until we either die or succeed, and then take word back.”

  Callum straightened, fear replaced with sudden courage. “And then what? Everything hinges on Priva remaining alive. The Sisterhood would never sign a treaty without him, and my plans over the last two years would be for nothing.”

  Silence greeted her assertion. Priva sent a dubious glance to the other men before flicking his eyes back to her. “I will not force you. The decision is yours alone.”

  Callum sighed, shaking her head. “I will not lie. The thought of using my powers to kill frightens me. Not to mention the idea of battle and blood.” She shivered. “I know that war is not for the faint of heart. But I also know that I will not shirk when the time comes.”

  “I know you won’t.” Priva’s dark eyes melted from concern to kindness. “Car’abels are not known for their cowardice. Regardless, why don’t you rest and let me know in the morning what you decide?”

  Callum nodded, relief surging as she stood. She bid goodnight, and then slipped into her tent. As soon as the flap closed behind her, she collapsed into her blanket. Tears sprang into her eyes. Damn her weakness! Why was the Creator allowing this? Self-doubt pushed aside all other emotions. She had been so sure, so confident, and now? Faced with the reality of her situation, anxiety clawed for escape, threatening to overtake her.

  She bit her knuckles to keep from crying out. Shaking, she turned face-down and embraced the Deep. It filled her being with raw power, and she dipped her hand into the surface, drawing it in. Peace solidified, and the anxiety melted into nothing.

  She could do this. She was strong. She was confident. She would not fail.

  ***

  The night’s rest brought newfound confidence. Callum didn’t need to think about it any longer. When the men heard her stalwart assertion that she would go forward with them, no one argued. Nigel didn’t look pleased, but after all, he had never said anything that would make her think his feelings for her went deeper than mere fondness. Why should she care what he thought?

  Nigel bought a boat from a nearby fisherman, and they pushed off into the surf. The sea was calm today, placid, as if it knew they needed the stillness to ease the tension in their souls. Priva set his face south, and Callum watched his profile. What was going on in that head of his? Was he even considering what she had said, or was he fully focused on their mission? Should she press him for his answer?

  No. He would think things through and didn’t need her cajoling. Men didn’t like nagging women, and she was no dripping roof.

  They hit the Passage current mid-morning, and Nigel and Perion set down the oars and massaged their aching muscles. Sweat glistened on their bare upper bodies.

  “Faster,” Priva muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the horizon. “We need to move faster. I don’t like the looks of the sea. It is the calm before a storm.” He took an oar from Perion and he and Nigel continued rowing. Callum offered to take Nigel’s spot, but his glare could have withered stone. She sat with her back against the boat’s inner hull, wrapping her arms around her knees and watching Nigel from the corner of her eye. If she was going to die, she would allow herself this one small pleasure.

  They took no break, eating lunch in the boat. Soon, the water skins were almost empty. They would
need to land later and scour for more. The skies darkened as the day progressed, storm clouds moving in and the wind picking up. By midafternoon they had lost the current, but the wind was blowing south.

  Priva hoisted the sails, grinning. “We move faster than the current would have taken us!”

  “The rains will deter us,” Perion said, looking to the sky. “We have a few minutes, I think.”

  Sure enough, the rain came in torrents, lashing the boat and sending the waves rolling in ever-increasing swells. It must have been the sudden onset of darkness that made them miss the longboat that came alongside them. One minute, nothing was there. And then, shouts poured from the starboard side, and Priva and the Bladewielders lunged forward to peer into the darkness, rain pelting their faces.

  How had Priva not heard them?

  Callum’s heart pounded. She huddled against the rain as it dripped off her face and obscured her vision. Shouts barely penetrated the wild tumult of the storm.

  The boat rolled over a swell, and Callum grasped a rope, looping her arm through it. The wave crashed down, sending the boat careening over the edge and dropping with heart-pounding speed. She hadn’t spent much time on the water, despite the fact that she had grown up beside it her whole life.

  This was the very reason why she preferred solid ground.

  Lightning ripped across the sky, igniting the landscape. A longboat was beside them, full of dark-toned warriors, skin glistening and the whites of their eyes stark in their faces. They appeared just as surprised as she was, fighting the sea for all they were worth.

  “Hold tight!”

  The warning came just before a monstrous wave bore them up and then dumped the boat. Callum had little time to prepare before she was submerged, letting go of the rope and flailing for all she was worth.