“I am standing right here,” Delaney pointed out, shaking her head. Feigning disinterest even though they were still talking about her, she turned in a slow circle, taking in her new surroundings.
The room was large, around the same size as her high school gym, with a few areas sectioned off with different-colored floor mats. The forest-green mat she was currently standing on squished beneath her as she turned back around to face the Vakar still deep in debate. Neither had said as much aloud, but it was pretty obvious why they’d brought her here.
“I took a few self-defense classes,” she informed them, waiting for both of them to glance up at her. “But it was a couple of years ago, and like I said, it was only a few.”
“Did they teach you how to fight aliens?” Ruckus asked.
“Nope”—she rocked back on her heels—“but a dick’s a dick, right?”
He blinked at her and she felt her cheeks heating, already wishing she’d kept her mouth shut and just let them continue their little debate about her “skills,” or lack thereof.
“That came out wrong,” she tried, but it was too late.
“As adorably awkward as this just became,” Pettus said, and clapped his hands loudly, causing her shoulders to stiffen, “we don’t have all day.”
Ruckus turned to him. “I’m pretty certain that’s my call.”
Pettus nodded once in agreement, then stepped over to Delaney. Once in front of her, he lifted his arms, placing both fists before his face. His feet shifted, and within a second it looked like he was going to attempt boxing with her.
“I assume they taught you as much in self-defense class?” he asked. When she agreed, he added, “Show me.”
Feeling a bit ridiculous, she did as told, trying not to glance over his shoulder at Ruckus.
“Our physiology is very similar to humans,” Pettus went on, either unaware of her discomfort or outright ignoring it. “Almost the exact same, in fact.”
“So if I wanted to knock you out, I’d hit your temple or your jaw,” she said, thinking it over, “really, really hard.”
“Let’s stick with attempting to disable,” Ruckus said. “You won’t be left like you were in the shelter again. I don’t intend for you to be alone long enough to need to worry about knocking an attacker unconscious. Only holding them off long enough for Pettus or me to get to you.”
“By the time I got there, you already had two of them on the ground.” Pettus lifted his chin. “Show me how.”
“Well, I scratched one of their faces. Like a girl.” He probably didn’t want her to demonstrate that part.
“Like a cat,” Ruckus corrected, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly.
“You have to use what you can.” Pettus nodded. “Claws work. What next?”
“I took out his knee. And then with the other guy…” She moved forward and demonstrated what she’d done, careful not to actually punch Pettus or step on his toes. Once she’d fully executed the move, she pulled back and waited for his input. Admittedly, when she’d been dragged to the classes by Mariana, she hadn’t actually believed for a second she’d ever need what she’d learned.
“That’s good.” Pettus reached for her and then repositioned her arms and legs back into a fighting stance. Then, without warning, he brought his knee into an arch toward her side.
Instinctually, her hands slammed down, shoving his knee away. But before she could blink, he had his right fist pressed against the curve of her jaw. If this had been real, he would surely have taken her out of commission with that one.
She pulled back and grimaced.
“Here.” Ruckus motioned for Pettus to step aside and then took his place. “Let me show you.”
A couple of hours later she’d learned enough to be moderately more sure of herself or, at least, of the fact that she could successfully get away if attacked. So long as it was hand-to-hand combat. Ruckus had attempted to teach her a few moves to avoid the sharp edge of a knife or the barrel of a firearm, but she hadn’t picked up on those techniques as easily.
Between the two of them, however, she was starting to get a better picture of the Vakar army, and why they were so willing to allow their Lissa to spend her denzeration virtually alone.
“Does Olena know how to do all this?” She blocked one of Ruckus’s punches and ducked his swinging arm. They were moving at a quicker pace now, not needing to slo-mo every move to avoid hurting her.
“She was taught,” he confirmed, shifting back onto his right foot so that her elbow met with air. “Regents are trained at a very young age. It’s important that members of the royal family are capable of defending themselves. Of course, even though she knows how to, she rarely bothers. Olena isn’t the type to enjoy fighting her own battles.”
Delaney snorted and twisted to the left, out of striking distance. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“The Basileus and Basilissa would like a word with the Lissa,” Pettus told them, giving her an apologetic look. His head was cocked to the side, and he appeared to be listening to something. Obviously someone was contacting him through his fitting. “They’ve already been escorted to the Green Room and are awaiting your arrival.”
“Now?” Ruckus straightened. “I alerted the Basileus earlier about my training intentions for the day. He agreed it was important that she be prepared.”
“I tried to explain that you weren’t done with your session, Ander,” he said, “but they insisted.”
Of course they did; they were assholes.
“I’m not going to like this conversation, am I?” She looked up at Ruckus, noting the thin line his mouth had become and the way he was clenching his jaw.
“Honestly,” he said, and sighed, “I’m not sure.”
“It’s doubtful,” Pettus added, then held up both hands and quickly left when Ruckus glared.
Awesome.
* * *
WHY THEY BOTHERED to call it the Green Room was beyond her, considering that almost all the rooms in this place were painted the same damn color. She was even starting to get sick of the gold. Maybe after all this was done, she’d go home and toss all but her silver jewelry.
Which made her feel like she had a twisted connection to Olena. One she didn’t like.
This happened to be the same room she’d first been brought to after leaving the ship, and the Basileus was seated once more behind his desk. The only major difference was that Magnus and Tilda weren’t alone; occupying two of the leather chairs positioned to the left were Trystan and another man Delaney had never seen before.
He was dressed in dark blues and silver, a clear indicator that he was also a Kint. The way he sat stiffly with a blank expression clued her in that he was probably also a high-standing member. Military, more than likely.
The Basilissa was off to the side, watching the flickering lime-green flames in the fireplace. It happened to be large enough to fit Trystan in, and Delaney momentarily contemplated it.
“You wanted to see us, sir?” Ruckus broke the silence. He’d taken her hand to lead her from the training room, but he had to let it go as soon as they’d entered a more populated section of the castle. The gesture had been sweet.
She rubbed her palms together, finding she missed the feel of him. Truth be told, she was more shaken up by the past events than she’d initially believed.
“That’s the second attack this week,” the Basileus stated finally. With a twist of his expression, he flicked his wrist. “And it is no surprise that Rex Hortan shares in our concerns.” He motioned absently over toward Trystan and the other Kint, as if that were enough explanation.
“Trump Jackan is one of the Rex’s most trusted royal advisers,” Ruckus said, filling her in through the fitting. “His presence means the Rex has a demand.”
“Rex Hortan has requested that your Uprising be rescheduled,” the Basileus said then. He set his blue-green eyes on her, and she realized they were same dark navy as the Kint colors.
She couldn�
�t help but wonder if he ever wished that the blue had switched with the ring of deep green that circled it. Funny, that he had both Vakar and Kint in his eyes, though she doubted he’d find it so.
“To when?” Ruckus asked at her side. His expression was tight.
“Four days,” Tilda responded, turning from the fire. Her hands were clasped before her, and she at least had the decency to glance away guiltily when Delaney looked at her. “It’s our best chance of putting a stop to these attacks. Once our daughter has Uprisen, the Tars won’t be able to say or do anything.”
Her wording made Delaney pause.
“You don’t seem very excited, Lissa Olena,” Trystan pointed out. He was sitting back in his chair, his legs crossed, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
She knew better. He had to be hating this every bit as much as she did. Even not knowing exactly what the Uprising was, having it sooner had to imply the timetable for their binding had also been moved up.
“Haven’t you been waiting for this since you were a child?” he added.
Had she?
“Yes,” Ruckus answered even though she was pretty sure she hadn’t actually sent the question to him.
“Of course,” she stated, making her tone as nonchalant as possible to mask her growing doubts. They couldn’t actually want her to go through with this, could they? “It caught me off guard, that’s all.”
“We’ve already taken care of most of the details,” Tilda said, and for a moment Delaney was actually grateful to her for attempting to ease some of her worries. Even if she had to do it via cryptic phrasing. “Fortunately, you selected almost everything before leaving for your denzeration. I imagine you feel relieved now, knowing you won’t need to find a dress on such short notice.”
“Yes,” she said, bobbing her head like an idiot, and stopped the moment she realized as much. “That is a relief.”
“What the hell is an Uprising?” she sent to Ruckus, but before he could answer, Trystan abruptly stood.
He adjusted his uniform and motioned at Trump Jackan to rise as well. Once the two of them were standing, his eyes sought hers and the corner of his mouth turned up in what could only be considered an evil smirk.
Like, villainously so. She’d mentally paint on a mustache and imagine him twirling it if it weren’t for the fact that he was legitimately terrifying.
“I’ll be escorting you during the ceremony,” he told her. “As your betrothed, it’s only fitting. Unless you have a different selection in mind?”
It took all her willpower not to glance at Ruckus.
“No, you’re right, of course.” She almost threw up right then and there. The last thing she wanted to do was anything with Trystan.
“This being a Vakar Uprising,” Trump Jackan said, speaking for the first time, the word Vakar coming off almost as a sneer, “the Rex doesn’t feel his presence is necessary. Surely you agree, Basileus Magnus.”
“Absolutely.” The Basileus stood, resting his fingers on the top of his desk.
“Perfect.” Trystan angled his head in a slight bow toward both of the regents before settling back on Delaney. “I’ll see you soon then, Lissa Olena.”
They waited for him and the Trump to go, not risking another sentence until the door had clicked shut behind them. Then the Basileus ran a hand through his hair, and the Basilissa leaned against the fireplace. Their reactions did not help ease Delaney’s tumultuous feelings.
“There was nothing we could do,” the Basileus said a moment later on a heavy sigh. “Turning down the Rex’s suggestion would have drawn too much suspicion. Especially when he’d gone through the trouble of sending one of his advisers with the message, instead of merely having his son inform us.”
“So Trump Jackan’s presence was a power play?” Delaney asked.
“This entire thing is a power play, Miss Grace,” he corrected her sternly. “Unfortunately, having the Uprising sooner is a good plan. It should cease these constant assassination attempts, for one.”
“Why? What will make the Tars stop trying to kill Olena?”
“They could still try.” Magnus shook his head, sending dark black tendrils around his sharp cheeks. “But it’ll be even harder. She’ll have access to the Alter Pool; killing her would be next to impossible so long as she remains close to the castle where she can get to it in time. Generally, once a regent is Uprisen, those against him or her realize that the odds are too low to bother attempting murder.”
“There’s only so much water left in the Alter Pool,” Ruckus explained. “About a hundred years ago a new law was implemented by the Basileus stating that once a new ruler was Uprisen, the old would stop using it to heal.”
“Surely they could just do it anyway,” she posed.
“Not without breaking the law,” he informed her, “and even the king has laws he must follow. Once you’re Uprisen, you’re the only one here who will be able to use the pool’s healing properties. It doesn’t slow down aging, but the Basileus and Basilissa don’t have to worry about that anyway. If, however, one of them is shot with a fritz, or worse…”
They’d be screwed, would most likely die, and then she’d be the surviving ruler. The new Basilissa. Which was so not an option.
Tilda moved over to her, taking Delaney’s hands in her own and squeezing lightly. “Please try to understand. We’re doing this for our people, and for our daughter.”
Delaney sighed. “I just want to go home.”
“And you will,” Magnus promised. “As soon as Olena is found, we will honor our agreement. Until then, however, you will be standing in her place for the Uprising. I’m sure Ruckus can show you what to do, what’s expected. It’s not very complex, so you shouldn’t worry about screwing it up. But it is important that you pull it off without mistakes.”
“If she’s already the Lissa…,” Delaney started. She kept her attention on Tilda, seeing that she was the only one of the two who actually seemed to care what they were putting her through. “Then what’s the actual purpose of an Uprising anyway? She’s already the heir, isn’t she?”
Hadn’t she asked if Olena had siblings and been told no?
“It’s sort of like an exchanging of power…,” Tilda began, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s more than simply telling the universe that she’s our heir; it’s expressing that we’re prepared to step aside for her. Once she’s Uprisen, we”—she glanced at her husband—“will stop using the Alter Pool ourselves. It will be her decision then, if one of us should be fatally wounded, whether or not to allow us entrance.”
“You’re going to give Olena that kind of control?” Delaney yanked her hands out of the Basilissa’s grasp. “Look, no disrespect or anything, but I have yet to hear one good thing about your daughter, and are you forgetting? She did this to me!”
“And she’s about to be bound to the Zane of Kint,” Magnus reminded her. “Who also happens to be the heir to his father. We’re well aware of who our children are, Miss Grace, but together they’ll be forced to grow up.”
“Because if they don’t, they’ll never have children.” She was still disgusted by that notion, and after this conversation, she was even more so with the Basileus. “You don’t care whether or not she’s happy, do you? She ran, and you still don’t care.”
“Delaney,” Ruckus said, giving her a low warning and reaching out to touch her elbow.
“She’s allowed to speak her mind.” Magnus waved him off while maintaining eye contact with her. “So long as she does so here, behind closed doors. If anyone outside this room should discover your true identity, Miss Grace, let me remind you—”
“Don’t bother,” she cut him off. “I know the stakes. I don’t want war for my people any more than you want it for yours.”
“Ah.” His eyes lost some of their edge, though the calculation remained. “So you think I’m a terrible father, but you believe I want what’s best for my people? Has it not occurred to you then, that those things confli
ct? I can’t have both my daughter’s happiness and the safety of Vakar. I must choose. Should I place the well-being of my single daughter above that of the thousands who live here in Vakar?”
She really hated it when people she was arguing with made valid points. It was so much harder for her to continue to discredit them, to hate them. And she found she really wanted to hate the Basileus right now.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So I’ll do the Uprising ceremony. Then what? We can’t keep this up forever.”
“We won’t have to.” Satisfied, Magnus went back around his desk, lowering himself dignifiedly back into his black leather chair. “They’re close to finding my daughter. Who knows? They might end up bringing her back here the day after the Uprising, and then you’ll get to return to your family.” He smiled, but it was less than kind. “To your loving father.”
Had she been thinking about fitting Trystan in the fireplace? Forget that. Burning Magnus alive was starting to have a certain appeal.
CHAPTER 17
“They’re scared, Delaney,” Ruckus told her the next day. He’d brought her to another section of the castle, this one filled with weapons, none of which were recognizable. Explaining some of them to her, he’d walked her through the room, pointing out the most popular technology, including a spray that apparently melted through flesh.
Awesome.
The room housed most of the castle’s main weapons. The floors were slick and onyx, the ceiling high. There were no windows, and two doors, one leading in from the main hall and another he’d told her led up a stairwell to another part of the castle.
There were four long tables, two on either side positioned with about six feet between them and the walls where more weapons hung. To the right was a sectioned-off area surrounded on one side by glass.
Many of the weapons here seemed extreme, but recalling that they’d been at war for many generations up until five years ago eased some of her judgment. She certainly didn’t know what that was like, living in constant fear, always afraid a Kint ship was going to come up over the horizon and attack.
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