by Kiersten Fay
Kyra stood still for the man’s scrutiny as she did the same to him. His clothing looked worn, yet well kept and his hair was a bluish grey, indicating he might be very old indeed. In the back of her mind, recollection sparked, but she couldn’t place him. Then he grinned, and the spark burned to the forefront of her mind.
“Fritz?” she breathed.
His smile grew ecstatic. “It is you.” He turned to yell, “It’s true! They have returned!”
A dozen colorful heads popped up, curious. Others emerged shyly from seemingly everywhere. The whispering grew to a roar that slowly dissipated as the news made its way through the city.
Fritz took a knee. Those near him shared a brief look and then slowly followed suit until no Faieara was left standing. The act surprised Kyra and caused a strange sense of dread to flutter through her. She reached a hand behind her, seeking support. Cale was there in an instant, gripping her palm. Fritz looked momentarily taken aback as his eyes shifted between her and Cale. Then his head lowered in what looked like acceptance. She realized then what her action had demonstrated. It appeared as though she was presenting Cale as her future King. It had been unintentional, but no less true. She glanced at Cale who seemed to have come to the same conclusion. His expression became a mix of apprehension and uncertainty. She gave him a reassuring smile, knowing that Cale would make a strong and ruthless king, but fair as well. That is…if he wanted the position.
He gave her hand a squeeze as if answering the unspoken question.
Facing Fritz, she said, “Rise, Fritz. All of you, rise.”
They did. Kyra observed that not one of them had a mark from the battle. The magic had healed more than just a few Kayadon.
“How many of our people have survived?”
“Outside the city, I cannot say. Before the fighting we were two-thousand strong. Undoubtedly less now.”
“So few?”
In a city that had once held more than twenty-thousand Faieara? The revelation was discouraging.
He gave a bitter nod. “Many had been moved. We don’t know where. I like to believe that the majority of our people escaped into the forest and have kept themselves hidden, but I do not rely on that hope.”
She thought of all the places where one could possibly hide. Caves, for sure. There were many scattered over the hills and mountains. Aside from that, there were secluded areas where magic pooled, creating all manner of phenomena, from invisible portals, to dimensional rifts. A clever individual could use them for travel.
The surrounding group multiplied as Faieara heard the news. However, they kept their distance, probably due to the uneasy looks the demons were giving off.
“Are there any healers here?” she asked loudly for all to hear. Ethan had yet to wake. She suspected a healer could do nothing to help him. More likely he just needed a good long rest.
Fritz shook his head. “Healers are rare these days. If one is found, they are taken immediately. It’s possible, however, that some reside in the palace. We’ve not had access since the Kayadon took over.”
Ginn cleared his throat. “They’re kept in the dungeon.”
Kyra gave him a blank stare. “Dungeon? The palace doesn’t have a dungeon.”
“It was the first of the alterations done,” he explained sheepishly. “There are also secret tunnels that run under the city.”
“What else had been done to my home?”
“That’s all I can recall for the moment. I have not been invited to the palace in ages.”
She turned toward the palace and beckoned Fritz and the others to follow. But before she got far, Portia appeared in that startling way, along with four others. The two men from the stream side and two women.
Though they were of the Serakian order, they looked to be from completely different races, none of which Kyra could place. Portia was the shortest. The others varied in height with the men being the tallest. One of the women had golden hair and skin spotted like a leopard. The other was draped in a skintight black ensemble, making her look dangerous with tightly braided black hair and charcoal skin.
The dragons tensed, clearly uncomfortable around the witches.
The Faieara shrank back as Sebastian barked, “Where have you been?”
While the other Serakians scowled at his tone, Portia smiled. “Performing one of the strongest protection spells of my life.” She beamed. “Kayadon outside the perimeter will not be able to cross the boundary.”
Kyra felt the muscles in her neck relax. “How far out does it go?”
Portia practically bounced at the question. Her words came out excited. “At first we were only going to do the palace and surrounding city, but that massive bubble of magic came along. We were able to weave our spell through it and use it as a conduit. Where it ended is where the boundary lines are. I’ll have to send a team to map it.” Then she finally noticed the wary Faieara. “Where are we all going?”
Chapter 35
Beyond the courtyard, which was overgrown and unkempt, the white marble steps that led into the palace were covered with dirt and grime as if they hadn’t been cleaned in years. Kyra steeled herself and made her way up, trying to temper her anticipation. Or was it trepidation? She couldn’t decide.
On the short walk here, she’d had a brief conversation with Fritz about her father. Though his expression fell in a discouraging way, he was sure the king lived. The Kayadon had quickly learned the Faieara’s deep loyalty to the royal family and often showed proof that their King remained unharmed by making him sit on a balcony and wave down at them, always with an escort of guards and only for short periods of time.
A small distance past the steps waited towering oringa wood doors, carved in intricate patterns that reflected the surrounding forest. She slipped her fingers around one of the long handles and pulled, but the door didn’t budge.
“Locked?” she muttered.
Nadua came forth to pull on the other side with the same result. “They were never locked before,” she said.
The front entrance of the palace had always been open to the people. Kyra looked to Ginn.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Mechanized locks. Our leaders didn’t want intruders.”
Fritz added, “Guards used to fill the courtyard, as well. We were never allowed this close.”
All eyes turned to Anya, and she came forward to run a hand along the surface of the ancient door. A prattle of smooth gears wheezed, followed by a soft click. Then both doors slid open like the hatch of a ship, revealing the bright entrance hall.
Two girls huddled on the marble floor next to the far wall, their eyes stark and faces drained to the color of their white servant robes. With their hair similar shades of lavender and braided in the same fashion, they could be related.
Kyra wondered how many Kayadon they witnessed crumbling to dust. She approached slowly, not wanting to frighten them further. They looked too young to recognize the daughters of the king. “Are you alright?” she asked.
They both flinched as if her words hurt. The taller of the two said in a tiny voice, “Where is Thedious and Brash? What happened to them and the other Kayadon?”
“They’re gone,” replied Kyra. “You don’t need to fear us. We’re here to help.”
An older woman rushed through the entrance, her face overflowing with emotion. “Oh, my babies.”
As if her legs could no longer carry her weight, she fell her knees. The girls quickly closed the distance to clasp the woman with shaky arms.
Kyra averted her gaze, feeling somehow intrusive. She turned to Ginn. “Which way to the healers?”
Ginn gestured to the right with his head.
The girl who spoke before lifted her eyes and sniffled. “The healers have gone. I don’t know who let them out, but they ran through here moments ago. I watched them scale a wall in the garden.”
After being acquainted with the Kayadon’s extraction process, Kyra would hightail it too. “Is there anyone in the palace who might be working with t
he Kayadon?”
The girl looked confused. “We all work with them.”
“Not any more you don’t. You’re free. They won’t be coming back to the palace.”
The girls locked gazes and then bid their mother for confirmation.
The woman cupped their faces. “It’s okay. They’re telling the truth. These are the princesses from legend.”
Cale, clearly impatient, said in a forceful tone, “We need to secure the palace. Is there anyone inside we need to be aware of? Anyone who might want the Kayadon back?”
Though fear returned to her features, the girl replied with conviction, “No one would want that.”
“How many like yourselves live in the palace?” Kyra asked.
“Twenty servants. Seven cooks. I don’t know how many healers there were. The group was large. Then there’s the King.”
Kyra stilled. “Take me to him.”
Sebastian took command, addressing the group. “Before we do anything, we should do a sweep of the building and surrounding area. Round everyone up.”
“I will see my father, now,” Kyra demanded harsher than she meant to. A sense of urgency crept up her spine. Her sisters nodded. She caught Anya’s expression and knew she felt the urgency too.
Tristan jumped in. “We’ll do the sweep. Do as they wish. Take them to Alestar.”
Kyra gave him an appreciative look. It hit her again that his father was gone for good. Tristan’s countenance remained strong, but under the surface, a title wave of loss was building momentum inside him.
After a moment, Sebastian acquiesced. “Rex, Sonya, go with the dragons.”
As Tristan and Lear gently set their father’s body in the corner, Sonya replied, “What about Ethan?”
Kyra turned to the women, still embracing each other. “Is there a room where our friend can rest?”
The bravest of the young girls stood and directed them toward a long hall, just off the main entrance. Kyra recalled that being the location of the servant’s apartments.
“This is my room,” the girl said, stopping at a door and ushering them in. The space looked smaller than it should with no windows and three beds crammed inside. “I share it with my sister and another servant,” the girl added.
After easing Ethan onto a mattress, Rex joined the dragons to search the palace. Sonya stayed to “guard” Ethan, while the rest of them followed the young girl, named Sesu. Kyra was surprised when they came to an elevator—yet another alteration by the Kayadon.
“I’d feel better taking the stairs,” she said, not ready to trust Kayadon engineering.
“As would I,” agreed Sebastian.
“Of course. This way,” Sesu said, a bit confused.
Kyra imagined the girl had taken this elevator countless times and had no reason to doubt its reliance. But the Kayadon had clearly been concerned with security and may have added precautions to deter intruders.
They made their way to a spiral staircase, wide enough for two to climb side by side. Ginn made no comment as Cale pulled him along by the vines around his torso.
The palace layout hadn’t been altered too much. Kyra could have found her way without their young escort. That is, up until they came to the fifth, upper-most floor. Nothing looked as she remembered. Some corridors had been blocked, while new ones had been created. Extra security had been installed by way of electronic doors at nearly every hall junction. Anya made quick work of them.
On the way, they encountered another frightened Faieara. A young boy this time. They calmed him as best they could, then sent him down to the entrance hall where Fritz was to take charge of any newcomers.
Finally they found the king’s chamber and something like dread crept into Kyra’s stomach. What would they find? A small part of her didn’t want to enter. Didn’t want to see what had only been alluded to.
Before Anya could disable the lock, the door opened on its own, revealing a tall male with a slight resemblance to Ginn. The demons drew their weapons, and the man stepped back, putting his palms up. His expression said he’d been expecting them. No doubt a state of the art surveillance system had been among the many updates.
The man noted Ginn with a fleeting glance. “My name is Liyel. It is an honor to finally meet you.” He gave an unpracticed bow before waving them inside. “Your father awaits.”
“Step back,” Sebastian ordered with authority.
Cale and Marik made a barrier out of their bodies, pushing the girls behind them.
In the same instant, Nadua demanded, “You know who we are?”
As Liyel withdrew into the room, he answered, “The king confides in me. But I can explain myself later. The king will not last long now that the healers have fled.”
Kyra pushed past her living shield. Cale made a noise of protest, but she ignored it. “What do you mean? Where is he?”
Liyel crossed to a door and pulled it open. Sebastian kept his blade trained on Liyel as he gestured for Cale to enter first. He did, disappearing for only a moment. When he returned, Cale gave a nod. Then he met Kyra’s gaze. She saw her worst fear reflected back at her.
She rushed into the room with her sisters in tow. Curtains closed over two tall windows, allowing only thin shafts of light to bleed in, leaving the room ominously dim. The light was enough, however, to see a solitary bed fitted with heavy covers pulled up to the chest of a white-haired man with sunken cheeks. The man’s tired eyes became glossy upon seeing them and a smile crinkled his face.
He reached a shaky arm out, beckoning them closer. Kyra moved to take his hand in hers, shocked by how fragile it felt, as if a light squeeze would shatter bones under paper-thin skin. She tried to speak, but her throat had swelled and her lips curved in an unmanageable frown. Her eyes blurred, and she rushed to wipe them clear.
“Do not cry,” her father pleaded in a whispery voice.
Kyra understood that it pained him to speak. Despite trying to hold them back, tears spilled down her cheeks.
“You have done so well. I am so proud of you all,” he continued.
Nadua knelt beside the bed, fighting her own set of tears. “Father, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer right away, seeming to indulge in their presence. “I have been dying for what seems like forever,” he replied with a raspy chuckle. “I will pass to the Fields soon.”
“We can find more healers,” Nadua insisted. “When Ethan wakes he can—”
“I cannot stay, my love.” He gave a bitter shake of his head. “I’m tired. And what the healers have been through must never happen again.” He paused as if needing to catch a breath.
Kyra swallowed hard, needing to catch her own breath. Desperation coiled inside her, twisting in her stomach. “Don’t go,” she managed. She could barely see through the salty rivers, flooding her eyes and drenching her cheeks.
Regret swept over his features then twisted into a silent apology. “I wish to be with your mother,” he replied.
Kyra shook her head and more tears to surge. Her breath waged a violent war on her lungs.
“You’ve been so brave. So strong. You will lead our people well.” He paused. “I’ve managed to hold on for the sake of seeing you one last time, so I could tell you how much I love you…and to beg your forgiveness.”
“What?” Kyra said around a sob.
“If I had seen…I…all of this could have been prevented—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
“When I imagine how differently your lives would have been…all our lives…” His voice trailed off as anguish weaved its way through the creases of his face.
Anya, who had been quietly standing at the foot of the bed, approached to claim their father’s hand from Kyra. She knelt and brought his palm to her cheek. “I saw Mother in the Fields,” she said, trying to keep a steady voice. “She doesn’t blame you, and neither do we.”
For a moment he didn’t reply, his expression one of unimaginable sorrow as he
stared at his youngest daughter. Then, with a weak tug, he drew her in to put his arms around her. Anya leaned down and gingerly placed her chin on his shoulder, probably—like Kyra—afraid he’d break.
In a barely audible tone, he muttered, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Anya whispered back, sniffling.
This seemed to placate their father most. He closed his eyes and exhaled as if he’d been relieved of a terrible weight.
Kyra noticed the demons, watching from the door. Ginn and Liyel had been corralled in a corner. All of their expressions projected empathy, even the latter.
Her father noticed them as well. “Please come forward.”
The demons moved toward the bed, splitting their attention between the dying man and the Kayadon.
The king tried to shrug off his abraded, weary voice, measurably succeeding. “I would like to bestow my deepest thanks for all you have done for my daughters, and my people. Know that your people have a home on Evlon from this point on.”
Sebastian spoke for the group. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Many will appreciate that.”
Her father’s body sank into the bed, his breathing harsh. Suddenly his eyes turned vacant as if he’d lost his sight.
“Father?” Kyra shouted, wanting to beg him once more not to go, but she knew that would be selfish. More often than not, Faieara chose the Fields over life, once their beloved had departed. The fact that her father had delayed the journey was a testament of his love for his daughters.
He mumbled something then. She only caught a few words. “Promise to take care of them…keep them safe.”
Marik responded, “We will.”
Kyra knew the moment her father’s body became nothing more than a shell. Even without the dimming of his eyes, she knew. She let her tears fall free, let her heart break, needing the pain to overpower the crippling sorrow. But it wasn’t enough. The heaviness of her own body became acute, and she couldn’t muster the strength to rise. Lowering her head, she gave herself over to sorrow and wept.