Shouts erupted all around, the sounds of citizens running and our pursuers nearing us, as Gare led me through cramped alleyways littered with reeking trash.
Two guards darted down a street before us and Gare reached to grasp my arm and force me to a halt. My boots skidded on gravel and I nearly fell. He shot me a glare and shoved me back against the stone wall behind us. I listened as the guards’ footsteps paused and a momentary quiet sank around us. Clapping a hand over my mouth to muffle my gasps for air, I prayed the men would keep moving forward.
Then there were more footsteps, approaching us. I drew a trembling breath and groped for my quiver, seeing in my peripheral that Gare was tugging on the hilt of his sword. The blade hissed from its sheath and our tense faces stared back at us in its reflection.
When the men veered around the corner, swords drawn and at the ready, Gare launched himself toward them without hesitation. He swung his blade at the first man’s legs, forcing him to leap back in defense. The second guard pinned his eyes on me as I drew back my bowstring, my fingers trembling. Memories flashed through my mind: blood in the snow and Avrik’s pale face as a man collapsed at his hand; an executioner stumbling backward in front of a stunned crowd. My tongue fastened to the roof of my mouth.
I let the arrow fly a moment too late. It skittered off the wall where the guard had been. He charged me, swinging his blade toward my neck, and I barely had time to drop my bow, dive to the ground, and roll, sharp stones biting into my arms and back. I yanked my dagger from the sheath at my side and plunged it into his boot, slicing through leather and skin and bone. He yelped and swung again, but I was already moving, rolling back to my bow and leaping to my feet. I had my bow lifted and loaded with another arrow before he could lunge at me; I released the string before I could stare into his rage-filled eyes a moment longer and waver once more. My arrow lodged in his neck, and with a gurgle and roll of his eyes, the guard dropped his sword and collapsed in a heap.
I glanced to Gare just in time to watch him wipe his bloodied sword on the other fallen man’s uniform. Slowly I lowered my bow and released a ragged breath. Hearing my movements, Gare turned on me.
“I saw you falter. Never hesitate in battle,” he snarled. His left leg was bleeding and he walked with a slight limp, but otherwise he seemed unfazed by the encounter, as if he had been a wartime soldier used to daily bloodshed and death.
My protests died before they reached my lips.
His eyes glinted in the twilight. “Hesitation will be the death of you or your comrades.”
Before I could even nod, more cries rang out as citizens spilled into the streets surrounding us, tumbling over one another, screaming in fear even as guards called to them: “Halt! Everyone remain calm!”
“Join the fray,” Gare grunted, sheathing his sword. I slung my bow across my back and willed myself to be small, to be invisible amidst the chaos.
Limping forward, Gare darted into the crowds and allowed himself to blend in with the panicked, fleeing people. I followed, my heart pulsing, the shouts and screams all but drowning out the guards’ commands. Somewhere in the sea of people, a child wailed for his mother; someone’s hand smacked my face; a dozen feet stepped on mine. I lost sight of Gare, but continued to push my way through, praying I could make it back to Marke’s shop and the other rebels would already be there, safe from danger. Dizzy, I squeezed past frantic women crying out for their children and men grasping at sword hilts and scanning the surrounding people warily. Though the crowd protected me for now, I felt as if I had been swallowed whole. What a pity it would be to succeed in our mission only to be trampled to death in our escape.
Slowly, the crowds began to thin until I could run freely through the streets without being jostled. Already the city was drenched in shadow, the dusk melting into a cold, still night. The noise faded behind me until my own footsteps echoed loudly on the cobblestones and I slowed to a walk. A few others swept their way along the streets beside me, their movements quick and anxious, their eyes constantly roving as they studied their surroundings and cast looks over their shoulders. Lights flickered from windows in the homes lining the way; smoke curled from chimneys. One woman stood framed by light in her doorway, leaning out to peer into the shadows as she waited for a loved one’s safe return.
I recognized some of the buildings around me: there was the baker’s where Jennah and I had gone two mornings ago to fetch pastries for breakfast. I was almost there.
Hands snatched at my back, yanking me to a sharp stop and throwing my hood back. I grit my teeth and spun to face a guard glowering down at me, suspicion lurking in his face, but thankfully, not recognition.
“What is a girl doing roaming the streets at night with a bow strapped to her back?” he demanded gruffly.
My breath caught in my throat. I let my eyes grow wide and fearful and tremors fill my voice. “Please…the crowds… I am only trying to get safely home.”
“You went to the execution tonight, armed?”
I imagined what Emalet would do, her face paling and her eyes fluttering in terror and helplessness. “Oh, please, sir. The city is not safe.” My eyes darted about, as if I could sense rebels prowling in the dark alleys and lurking on the rooftops around us.
A slow smile quirked the corner of his mouth and amusement danced in his dark eyes. “No, it is not. If I catch you out at night with a weapon again, I’ll disarm you and take you to Ugomath for questioning. Or worse. You’d better run home to your Mama and Papa.” He chuckled cruelly, shoving me away from him.
I caught myself and spun away from him, clenching my jaw and refusing to run, refusing to tremble. My stomach churned at the thought of visiting the infamous prison, even for questioning, but that still was better than the idea of being dragged to the castle dungeons. I walked with my head held high, studying the night and keeping my breathing even to hide my fear and anger and distract my thoughts.
The sky was dark with stars flashing overhead and a bulging moon hanging so low I felt I could reach up and touch it. Almost there, I thought. Almost there.
I rounded the final corner and there was Marke’s shop waiting for me. My body nearly sagged in relief. Breathless and aching, I circled to the back entrance and tapped softly. The door swung silently inward and Jennah’s face peered out at me.
“You made it,” she whispered. Her hair, pulled back as usual, was a frizzy halo on her head and her eyes were alight with relief.
I stepped inside and Jennah locked the door behind me. Layk, Ellok, and Benor sat on nearby crates or lay sprawled on the storeroom floor, their weapons lying beside them.
“That was close,” Benor breathed. “We were debating how much longer we would give before setting out to search for you.”
Without responding, my eyes swept the room a second time. “Where is Gare?” I asked, concern edging my tone.
“Upstairs. Mother is tending to his wound,” Jennah said quietly. “I think it’s time the rest of you return home, before it grows too late. Gare will stay here for the night.”
Layk nodded and glanced at Benor and Ellok. “Thirty minutes until curfew.” His face was grim. “You will be arrested on sight, no questions asked.”
As Benor, Ellok, and Layk left, I followed Jennah out of the room and up the steps to her living quarters.
My mind flitted back to the men I’d killed, and I had to quash a wave of nausea. I wondered if I would ever grow accustomed to a life of fighting and bloodshed. I clenched my jaw and tightened my hands into fists at my sides. Yes, if that’s what I must do, I resolved. Far better to have the blood of my father’s men on my hands than the blood of my people.
~ ~ ~
The next morning, Gare departed for home as soon as the first rays of sun peered over the horizon. Jennah closed the shop for a day of housework and rest and immediately set to work preparing breakfast. When she refused my help, I retreated to the bedroom and began formulating possible plans for infiltrating the palace and ways I could spread t
he truth about the king.
Pose as a servant. Spread rumors amongst the servants, whispers that could reach the ears of the Royal Guard. Set doubts in their minds and make them question their loyalties.
At last I sighed and hung my head, scratching out line after line of ideas in the pages of my journal. Chewing on my lip, I again considered revealing my identity to my comrades, now that our successful mission had built some trust between us. We could spread the news amongst the rebels that Princess Halia was alive and fighting against her father, news that could reach the Misrothian people and set fire to the rebellion’s cause. Or put them in graver danger than ever. My father would stop at nothing to find me if he knew I was still alive.
Exasperated, I joined Jennah and her family for breakfast. Once we’d finished, Kam took Avalee to the market to purchase food for dinner. While Jennah and Laydin washed and dried the dishes, I set to work wiping down the table, sweeping the stone floor, and dusting the mantelpiece.
As I brushed flour and soot into an ever-growing pile, I couldn’t help but watch Jennah in mild fascination as she scrubbed at the plates and hummed a soft tune. Though her hands were calloused, she had the beauty and gentility of a noblewoman. Her skin was dark, with a gold tone that made it shimmer in the light and gave her a warm aura, as if she had captured a piece of the sun to keep for herself. When she turned to pass a dish to her daughter, her brown eyes sparkled with flecks of gold. They were all features that revealed her Alrenian heritage.
Her humming transformed into singing, her rich voice filling the kitchen with alto notes from an Alrenian song, but not one I recognized as a traditional tune the Misrothian people had memorized before the language was forbidden. My breath caught in my throat.
“Do you know Alrenian?” I blurted out.
Jennah grinned at me, her eyes dancing with light. “Does it surprise you that a rebel with Alrenian heritage can speak a forbidden language?”
I matched her smile, shaking my head.
“My family has passed knowledge of the language down for generations. Unfortunately, we’ve forgotten much more than we’ve remembered…the tales of the land, its history, its people…” Her voice drifted off.
My heart pulsed with anticipation. I’d been waiting for days for a moment to ask about Marke’s gift. “But you remember stories about gifts the Life-Giver bestows? Such as Marke’s discernment?”
Jennah sighed softly and stared down at the dishwater. “All I remember is that the Book of Life told about those gifts. There are many, given to all sorts of people and revealed to them at any time in their lives…but I know nothing about the other gifts. Marke and I realized his discernment must be from the Life-Giver.” She lifted a spoon and stared at the suds collected on it. “All copies of the Book of Life in Misroth City were destroyed, so we haven’t been able to study much about it.”
Disappointment clung to me like a cloak. If only I could show her Lyanna and Rev’s copy and have her read from that… I shook the wishful thoughts away, resigning myself to the fact that, for now, I only had what information the Life-Giver had shared.
I leaned against the broom and my thoughts drifted to the stories I’d heard about Alrenor. “Do you ever…think of going there, to the
Jennah shook her head, her eyes flashing. “The people of Misroth are my people, and this is my home. I don’t want to escape. I want to save my kingdom so my daughters can have a better life…here, if they so choose.” She dipped her hands into the sudsy water again and grasped another dish. “Have you ever thought of leaving?”
I hesitated. “As you said, this is my home, where my people live... I won’t leave them.”
Jennah nodded slowly.
Dropping my gaze to avoid hers, I began to sweep again. “What were you singing about?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“It was a love song, asking the Life-Giver to keep the singer’s beloved and bring him safely home to her again.” A soft smile played about her lips, but it didn’t quite mask the pain in her eyes.
“I’m sure he will be home soon,” I said, pressing my lips together and trying to conceal the heaviness that descended on me like a weight.
Jennah studied me, as if by reading the lines of my face she could discern the contents of my heart. “You said you had no family in Evren, but surely you had ties. You left someone…didn’t you?”
I stared at the pile of filth at my feet and tried to keep my face smooth, emotionless. “It hardly matters.”
With childlike innocence, Laydin stared at her mother and then me, letting her questions pour out like a flood as she tried to understand our conversation. “Is she in love, Mama? Do you miss him, Elena? Why didn’t he come with you?”
Jennah shot her daughter a look. “Do not pry, darling.”
I lifted my chin and answered Laydin’s last question. “He chose a different path.”
Laydin stared down at her towel, fidgeting with it uncomfortably. She dared a glance at her mother. “I’m sorry,” she gulped.
Forcing my expression to look carefree, I waved my hand. “I told you, it hardly matters. It was only a vague wish. We were not…we were only friends.”
Without another word, I swept the dirt pile into the pan and left to dump it outside.
~ ~ ~
Days slithered by, full of helping Jennah with work in her shop and home and nights of meeting with rebels in various locations. Most often we met in Jennah’s cellar, but occasionally she would wake me to lead me out to the shadowy, quiet streets, where we would dodge ever-increasing numbers of patrol guards to meet in another business or home. The rebels usually kept their meetings to a handful of men and women at a time in order to reduce chances of being discovered, yet this made communication slow and difficult. It also meant that most efforts, like our rescue of the priest, were done with small groups of rebels, in numbers that could be stealthy and swift to avoid capture.
As we met with more and more rebels, I felt my hope grow. Perhaps we could end my father’s tyranny. Maybe there were more Misrothians than I’d believed who were ready to end King Zarev’s reign.
Most nights, we discussed the plan for me to infiltrate the palace for information that could aid our movement. Layk insisted on introducing me to as many of the rebels as possible before sending me away, in order to ensure that other members and I would be able to recognize one another. The time it was taking to get me into the palace was beginning to wear on me. Already, nearly two weeks had passed since I’d first entered the capital.
Impatience was foolish—deadly, even. But each night my sleep was filled with nightmares of death: the deaths of my people, my cousin, and everyone I cared about.
And I knew I could prevent them.
One afternoon, as we waited in Jennah’s cellar to move out and attempt to prevent another execution, I broached the subject. “When do we proceed with the plan to send me into the palace?”
Gare crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “There is much left to discuss.”
I bit back my impatience. “Then let us discuss it.”
Jennah shifted in her seat across from me. Her eyes glittered in the candlelight, but there was no amusement in them. “I have waited this long, wondering if you would share more and quelling my suspicion because of your assistance. But I can’t ignore the matter any longer.”
She set a hand on her hip while she scanned my face. It was a simple enough gesture for the slender woman, but something about her mannerisms stirred my memory, reminding me of childhood tales about Alrenian warriors from bygone days. “You do not have the bearing of a servant, yet you said you grew up in the palace. Who are you?”
All eyes turned toward me and silence fell.
I swallowed and stared at my hands, folded in my lap so tightly they were white. If I told them who I was, would they trust me? I may have aided them once, but I’d also concealed my identity this long and Gare had watched me hesitate to kill some of the king’s men. Bes
ides, I couldn’t trust them. There was no telling that they would not use my identity to spur their movement forward, that they would not spread word that the princess had returned and was part of the rebellion.
The last thing I needed was for the king to hear about a rebel princess. He wouldn’t hesitate to shed more innocent blood to find me; he would find our hideout and raze Marke’s shop in an instant. I couldn’t take that risk, not when it endangered so many.
The truth has been silent in this kingdom for years. Let it be silent a little longer.
I raised my eyes to meet Jennah’s narrowed stare, and chose my words carefully. “I was a child in the palace. Not a servant.”
The tension remained heavy in the room.
“You did not learn any of your parents’ ways?” Layk’s voice was sharp; his bright eyes burned into me.
If only I could lie. A thousand contrived stories swirled through my brain, but my tongue refused to give voice to any of them. Instead, I simply shook my head.
“I understand that your past must be painful, since you said you have no family in Evren.” Jennah’s voice was gentle, her face warm. “But you have to understand how important it is that we don’t withhold information from one another…”
A distant bell began to toll, signaling the seventeenth hour. Layk rose from his chair and lifted his bow from the table. “We need to move now.”
The others were on their feet in an instant. As one, we silently mounted the steps to the storeroom and began to filter one by one out the door and into the evening. Clouds muffled the sunlight and a fresh layer of snow crunched beneath my boots as I traced a path through the city’s maze of alleys. My bow weighed heavily on my back and I remembered the patrol guard’s threat after my first skirmish as a rebel. Layk could pass as an armed guard if he chose, but the streets were growing increasingly unfriendly toward armed citizens. I’d watched countless people questioned outside Marke’s shop over the days, and even now, as crowds wound through the streets to behold another execution, I noticed a few wary glances shot my direction.
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