Silent Kingdom

by Rachel L. Schade

  “Welcome back, my friends,” the Evren Leader said. His eyes seemed to pick me out immediately from the crowd. “Who is this? A guest or a newcomer?”

  I felt my face turning red as others glanced toward me. Although not every resident of Evren was present, most were, and their attention made me uncomfortable. Even during royal events, I had never been the focus of much attention, since Gillen had always been the one meant for the throne. I shuffled my feet uncomfortably and studied my boots.

  “A newcomer, Corin,” Rev said. “She—well, she was ill and traumatized by unknown events she doesn’t seem to quite remember. She cannot speak and has no family left, so we have taken her in as part of our family.” He smiled down at me like he was proud to present me. “She goes by Elena.”

  Corin smiled at me, the wrinkles in his tanned face creasing even deeper. “Welcome to Evren, Elena.”

  Without a spoken cue, everyone began to sit on the grass in a circle, with Corin joining as if he were merely another member of the town and not its Leader. I sat between Rev and Avrik as a woman somewhere further along the circle began to sing softly. Her dark hair shimmered in the dawn, catching the orange, pink, and yellow hues of the sky, while her voice rose stronger and sweeter.

  I recognized the sounds of her words, although I could not translate them. She was singing in Alrenian, the past language of Misroth before the New Language had been formed to separate us as a people from Alrenor. No one in Misroth studied Alrenian or understood the words to the old songs, but we remembered many of the songs’ meanings.

  The breeze swayed the tree branches and the flowers around us as the woman sang of walking alongside the Life-Giver and speaking to him like he was a friend. Then her tone changed, dipping low and soft, and her song compared the Giver to a father, comforting and gentle, and appearing to his people in order to offer love and guidance. The song described him as he healed his sick and broken children. Finally, the woman’s voice swelled with power—and when I didn’t think she could sing out louder or hit a sweeter note, she sang about him giving life and ending death.

  When her song ended, I was left breathless, as if I’d been the one singing. No one had walked with the Life-Giver on Earth in hundreds of years. Yet this citizen of Evren had sung with audacity in her voice, like she herself had met with him, and not like she was simply singing the words to an old song.

  And…this woman was not dressed in the attire of a priest. How was she allowed to sing to the Life-Giver if she had not committed her life to service?

  This is no morning in the royal sanctum, I thought. These people lived so differently, yet their ways were already endearing to me, and somehow I could not think of these actions as sacrilege, despite all I’d been taught growing up.

  Together, the citizens’ voices rose in another song. I listened in awe. Everyone here is permitted to speak with the Giver of Blessings.

  If he’d cared enough to listen to my prayers when my father had nearly killed me, maybe he could tell me what had happened to me—where my visions and knowledge of the truth had come from and why they’d disappeared. Why I had suddenly become mute. Maybe he would forgive me for being a coward and abandoning my cousin and aunt, and protect them from the king.

  I could hope.

  ~ ~ ~

  The months passed and I adjusted to my new life, growing more confident with each day that the danger was gone. The king didn’t know I was still alive, or didn’t know where I was. And he wasn’t searching here.

  Lyanna purchased clothes for me to wear at a local dress shop, as well as material to fashion clothes for me herself, though she always requested my help in an attempt to sharpen my almost nonexistent skills. Even with my new clothes, the girls at school all but ignored me, the strange, silent girl, but with Avrik and the other boys to call friends, I didn’t mind.

  I fell into an easy schedule of schoolwork and reading, helping Lyanna with chores around the house, and spending time with Avrik and his friends, Shilam and Jaren and Bren. When Rev returned home from his work keeping the books at the bank, he would sit by the fire and tell Lyanna and me all the news he’d gathered, either from clients or from local merchants after they returned from trips to nearby cities.

  One evening, as I sat beside the fire, struggling to knit as Lyanna had taught me, Rev pulled up a chair and said, “Kyrin’s behavior sure has been starting a lot of rumors lately.”

  Lyanna, knitting in the armchair by the fire, frowned at him. “I don’t think we should partake in the town gossip.”

  Rev shrugged, straightening his glasses. “No, you are right. I can’t deny it’s fascinating though, the things people dream up. Poor man, I think he only wants to be left alone. You can tell Avrik would like to socialize more. I’m glad you and he are such good friends.” He smiled at me.

  I poked myself with one of the knitting needles and started in surprise. Oh. Knitting. I dropped my head back down to focus on the task.

  Lyanna glanced over at me. “Tired, Elena? You can set that aside and we’ll work on it some more tomorrow.”

  Gratefully, I set my unfinished blanket and needles in Lyanna’s basket by the fire. Suppressing a yawn, I strolled back toward my bedroom.

  Lyanna lowered her voice as I shut my door, but I left it ajar so I could catch her words. “I can’t believe no one ever taught her… thirteen years old and no clue how to knit or cook… What kind of mother did she have?”

  I almost smiled. A noble lady for a mother, who had servants do the cooking and cleaning and knitting while a private tutor taught me how to sing and ride and dance and play music… But memories flashed through my head, and with a jolt of pain I saw my mother again in my mind’s eye, watching me as she had on that horrifying night I had accused my father.

  Her face was white; her eyes wide with shock. But she did not run to me. She didn’t save me.

  She let the king sentence me to death.

  ~ ~ ~

  Once I closed my eyes, I was at home again, the walls on either side of me covered in old paintings of Misroth’s history. Racing down the hallway, I tried not to laugh or tread too loudly. My cousin Gillen was at my side, stifling his own laughter. Ahead was the familiar staircase we sought so often in the summertime: twisting and narrow, it wound a path up one of the old towers to an open rooftop. My foot landed wrong and I nearly tripped, but Gillen caught my arm.

  “Wait,” he whispered, and we both hesitated, waiting for the sound of our tutors’ footsteps behind us. When nothing but our own ragged breathing filled our ears, he burst into a chuckle. “They’ll be discussing and arguing that old philosophical stuff for hours. Let’s go!”

  Dashing forward once more, we scaled the steps and reached the tower door. Gillen shoved it open and let me pass through first. The warm night air greeted me with its gentle embrace, full of the sound of a tame sea, its waves lapping gently on the shore far below. I gasped when I saw the sky: a rich, silky black spotted with millions of gems that traced patterns in the heavens. The moon hung soft and low in the sky, a sliver almost outshone by all of the stars’ combined light. I couldn’t remember ever seeing the stars look this vivid, not any of the times Gillen and I had snuck away to stay awake long into the night.

  “Gillen, look!” I whispered, pointing to one of the constellations. “Vehgar: the Dragon.” We both stared in awe at the cluster of stars that also adorned our kingdom’s flag, a symbol that reminded us of what the constellation represented: strength, beauty, and light.

  He beamed. “I told you tonight would be perfect. Eryk and Meeryn should let us out to appreciate nature more.” Puffing out his chest proudly and trying to deepen his fourteen-year-old’s voice, he said, “When I am king, that will change immediately. Every student will be free to study the stars.” His voice cracked on stars, and I dissolved into giggles.

  Gillen glared at me as I snorted, making him burst into laughter with me. Catching our breath and wiping the tears from our eyes, we lay back on the cool stone roof
to better view the sky.

  “Do you think they will be mad at us?” I asked after several silent minutes. “For encouraging their debate on theology and stealing off to do what they asked us not to do?”

  Gillen smirked. “That’s the joy of being royalty: they can be frustrated, but they can hardly be angry at their future sovereign or his favorite cousin, can they?”

  I laughed and shook my head, feeling that Gillen was possibly taking the privileges of his status a bit far and most definitely exaggerating his power. We both knew that as soon as we were caught, we would be reprimanded, but the reward of a late night under the constellations was worth any potential punishment.

  “It’s strange to think you will someday be ruling Misroth,” I said.

  Gillen grew solemn. Storm clouds seemed to pass over his blue eyes and his mouth tilted in the half-frown he made whenever he was meditative or troubled. “You know I do not like to think of it seriously. I wish I could remain a prince forever. I would rather not bear that responsibility, and I certainly don’t want to think of my father…” He didn’t finish the thought.

  Uncle Reylon was strong and healthy, so I knew it would be a long time before we needed to worry about losing him. Still, I imagined myself in Gillen’s place for an instant and felt the anxiety that likely weighed him down every day. The older he became, the more Reylon included him in meetings with the royal councilmen, proceedings before the throne, and dinners with the Leaders of Misroth’s cities that the rest of the royal family did not always attend. Every day Eryk seemed to add more books to the unending pile Gillen had to read and more lessons in conduct and law. It was overwhelming even for me to watch, especially when I was compelled to wait hours each day before Gillen finished his lessons and we could enjoy free time together horseback riding, exploring, swimming, or pretending to be adventurers roaming throughout the palace gardens and grounds.

  Footsteps creaked on the stairs and Gillen and I sat up quickly, expecting our tutors. The door swung open and a tall, slender form stepped onto the rooftop. I didn’t immediately recognize the face beneath the hood.

  “Mother?” I asked in surprise.

  “Eryk and Meeryn said you both were missing, but I knew where to look.” Her voice sounded soft when I expected it to be stern. “You should both be in bed.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I said, bowing my head. It was a small inconvenience for me to disappoint and frustrate Meeryn, but now my father would be firm with me tomorrow and that was far more difficult to abide. His disapproving gaze always pierced me to my soul until I was fiercely disappointed I had let him down. He and Mother expected perfect obedience from me as they and Meeryn worked to mold me into a perfect lady. They were proud of their royal heritage and wanted me to honor it in all of my actions. I groaned inwardly. “I’m s—” I began.

  “It is quite beautiful out here tonight, isn’t it?” As she lifted her face to the sky, her hood fell back. The starlight sparkled in her deep brown hair as if hundreds of tiny gems had been set in her tresses. Her face relaxed into a smile and she closed her eyes, like she could soak up the beauty of the night and keep it forever. As breathtakingly lovely as she was standing there, wrapped up in her brief moment of joy, I half-believed that she really was absorbing it into herself. It was in that moment that I realized how little I ever saw her smile or lose herself in simple pleasures.

  Then the moment was gone and she opened her eyes. Turning to Gillen and me, she drew a deep breath and settled her face back into a regal, impassive gaze. “Goodnight,” she said, bestowing this one word upon us less like a blessing and more like a command.

  Wordlessly, we crept back down the steps and toward our bedrooms. But that vision of my mother played in my head long afterward, making me wonder which royal responsibilities had weighed her down and stolen that enraptured look from her face.

  With a deep breath, I sat up in my bed in Evren, suddenly awake, and the palace faded away from me. It had all been so vivid, another memory I had revisited in my dreams. Moonlight spilled through my window and onto my bed covers. Everything was quiet and dark, and the house was still.

  How is Gillen now? Is he safe, or is my father going to attempt to kill him too? I’d left him and my aunt Velaire to an uncertain fate. What if they were already dead? I shivered, although it wasn’t cold beneath my blankets.

  How could I have left them? I closed my eyes, as if I could block out the anxiety and guilt washing over me. But how could I save them? My father would have me killed as soon as he saw me. I can’t ever go back. I’m powerless against him and his guards.

  But these thoughts didn’t change how I felt, or how much the aching longing for my cousin and aunt gnawed at my heart. It didn’t change how much my parents’ betrayal filled me with sorrow and anger. And it didn’t change the fact that I was still terrified of being hunted down by my father’s men, even here in Evren.

  Catching my breath, I lay back down on my pillow and realized my cheeks were wet. Lifting a hand to my face, I brushed away the tears.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day after school, I accompanied Avrik back to his and Kyrin’s cabin. When we arrived, he gathered some wood from the chopped pile in his yard, and before I could reach his front door to open it for him, he elbowed the knob and kicked the door open.

  “Father won’t be back for a few days,” he panted as he deposited the wood on the hearth. Kneeling down, he piled the logs into the fireplace and set to work starting a fire. “In the past, I’ve stayed with Lyanna and Rev when he was gone on long trips, but I’m old enough now to care for myself.” He paused, pressing his lips into a firm line. “Ever since my mother died, my father has spent more time away hunting and traveling.” He glanced up and noticed my raised eyebrow. “I’ll be fine, Elena.”

  Sitting down in the worn armchair near the fireplace, I pulled my journal and pencil from my backpack and scratched out a message. I knelt beside Avrik and held the paper out in front of him. You can come over for dinner tonight, at least.

  He smiled at me in response, lifting his face so that the firelight sparkled in his warm brown eyes. I dropped my gaze back down to my paper and fiddled with its edges.

  “I’m glad you are my friend,” he said softly. A frown crept over his face. “I have friends, but sometimes I think that their parents limit the amount of time they can spend with me.” He shrugged. “No one likes to keep company with sorrow. I feel like you are the only person who truly understands, somehow. You don’t shrink away like some others do, and you don’t pity me.”

  I bit my lip, studying his face while he stared into the fire. In the six months I’d known him, Avrik had not often talked about the deeper feelings brewing beneath his cheerful exterior, and I was glad he trusted me, even if his words made me ache with sympathy. I reached for my journal, grasping for words to share with him, but stopped myself. No words would ever be more powerful than the presence of a friend. I lay my hand over his and watched the fire with him as dusk fell and the shadows in the house lengthened.

  At last, I nudged his arm and he stirred suddenly, like he had been dozing. I glanced at him and he offered me a sheepish smile. “I was thinking,” he said. I wanted to smirk, because I’d never heard Avrik stay silent that long, but I caught myself when I noticed the serious expression still on his countenance. I had learned to recognize that look, even if it rarely flitted across his face. He’d been thinking of his mother all this time.

  Avrik pushed to his feet and helped pull me to mine. Shrugging my backpack over his shoulders, he doused the fire and headed for the door. The icy wind felt as sharp as a cold knife cutting into my cheeks when we stepped outside.

  Avrik stared at his feet for a minute before he spoke. “Mother was a good listener, like you.” He paused and laughed, looking self-conscious. “I mean, I know you sort of have to listen since you can’t speak. But you don’t have to keep my company, or give me attention when I talk endlessly…” He cleared his throat and stared off over the
hills, toward the Vorvinian Mountains. “I think everyone in Evren loved her,” he said softly. “I wish Father were around more.”

  You will always have Rev and Lyanna and me, I wanted to say, but even if I could have spoken, I was not sure if I would have said the words. Who could tell what the future would bring?

  CHAPTER 6

  The first snowflakes of the season were beginning to fall as Avrik, Bren, and I trudged down the main street of Evren one evening. Most of the citizens were indoors where it was warm, tucked away in one of the houses with windows flickering from firelight and smoke curling from their chimneys. A few businessmen and farmers strode briskly along the street, huffing great steaming breaths in the winter air and rubbing their arms as they went.

  Despite my cloak, hood, and mittens, the frigid air made me shiver as well. I tucked my hands inside my pockets and glanced at my friends. Bren was heavily bundled too, but Avrik had his hood pushed back and only his fingerless shooting gloves on his hands. As usual, his bow and quiver were strapped to his back, as if he were preparing to go on the hunt for his dinner, not order a meal at the local inn.

  The old inn, constructed from dark, weatherworn logs with a sign reading Wanderer’s Rest, waited for us across the street. In the dim evening light, it looked ominous—or perhaps I only found it that way because of what Lyanna had said. I glanced at the swirling, snowy sky and wondered how late it was and if she was expecting me home for dinner yet.

  Avrik noted my restless mood and shot me a carefree grin. “It’ll be fun, Elena. Lyanna worries about travelers because she thinks the outsiders are gruff, but she knows nothing about them. Father and I have made plenty of trips; there is nothing to worry about. Besides, we rarely have any visitors anyway. To most, we are not worth the journey, and as close to the border as we are, there are few travelers ever passing through.”

  “Come on,” Bren urged, pushing past us to cross the street.