Ally

by Anna Banks

  She has him there. She’s not really a citizen of Theoria, so he is not by any means her king. Still, his actual interest in her didn’t end that day, merely his official interest did. Which means he will not be put off.

  “Where are you going?” he says, ignoring her fury at his persistence.

  “I said—”

  “Let me be clear. You are not to leave the Baseborn Quarters. I’m not your king, but I am still king over the Great Council. If I request it, Olna will have you bound and stationed in your tent until my return.”

  “Return from where?”

  How is he to answer without sounding hypocritical? Telling her it’s not her concern would not be fair. Not when he just made such an outrageous threat. “I have business in Anyar.”

  “Just as I have business at the palace.”

  At this, his pulse quickens. “No.” The palace is overrun with Strays and people disloyal to the throne. It is the last place any of them need to be until they have the means to retake it.

  She laughs. The sound is bitter and full of mocking. “By the time you get to Olna, I will be gone.”

  He steps toward her, a bit of fear crawling over his skin. She really means to leave. And he really has no way to stop her, unless he intends to throw her over his shoulder and fight her all the way to Olna. She must realize what he’s considering, because she says, “If you touch me, I’ll fight you to the death.”

  Blast, but the determination in her voice rings true. What’s more, she actually seems like she wants to fight him. Which is something he’ll never do. “What business do you have at the palace? At least tell me that.”

  She studies him for a moment, her stature relaxing a bit. “I’m going to get Nuna.”

  Oh. Of course. That would be the one interest she has left at the palace. That would be the one interest she has at all, in fact. She has lost her father, her mother has betrayed her, and her betrothed has shunned her. She has no place in Theoria anymore and if she returns to Serubel she will be subject to her mother’s rule—and her plans to marry her off to a perfect stranger.

  Tarik is not immune to her losses, not nearly as much as he lets on. But in the wake of her deception, he must abandon his responsibility toward her. Still, he can’t shake the unease he feels at the idea of her returning to the palace alone. And can he blame her for wanting to go? Would he not have already gone after Patra? He glances at the cat beside him. There is no doubt in his mind that he would. He sighs. This is going to be a long day indeed.

  “The palace is too dangerous to navigate right now,” he says. “Come to Anyar with me. We’ll ask after Nuna there.”

  “How would anyone there know about Nuna?” She tucks a wisp of hair behind her ear as she reasons on his offer. The act is so achingly familiar to him that he has to look away.

  “Palace gossip is the most valuable gossip in Anyar. Word spreads much like a sandstorm when it comes to the king and the goings-on of the palace,” he offers.

  She considers for what seems like an eternity. Finally, she says, “I’m ready when you are.”

  * * *

  Sed is not at the base of the Half Bridge when they arrive. In fact, there are no Parani at the Half Bridge, which is highly unusual given the reports that the Strays have been executing people and disposing of them here, to be swept away by the River Nefari—surely the Parani would not waste such an opportunity to feast.

  “What do you make of it?” Tarik says as they climb the hill back to the top.

  “I’m not sure. There is one other place we can check. It’s where he prefers to meet privately when speaking with Master Saen and me.”

  Tarik still cannot comprehend the idea of speaking to a Parani. But if Master Saen can use her Lingot abilities to do so, he can as well.

  He allows Sepora to lead them farther north, around the big bend in the river. The water seems more shallow than usual, and the current is not as strong as it should be. Too, there is a repugnant smell in the air. “Something isn’t right,” he says. “The River Nefari is deeper than this until the tributaries part south of the Half Bridge.”

  She nods. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Once they reach the agreed-upon meeting spot, they descend to the water’s edge. Sepora picks up a sizable rock and throws it in the water with a giant plunk, followed by two more. “It’s how we alert him to our presence,” she explains.

  Within minutes, a large male Parani appears before them. “That’s Sed,” Sepora whispers.

  “I have been waiting for you,” Sed communicates through a wail of frustration at Sepora. “What is the reason for your absence?”

  Awestruck, Tarik relays this to her, but turns back to the Parani, his Lingot mind racing. The nuances in the pitch of his voice are key, he knows. He must match his tone to Sed’s, or the communication will be faulty at best. Tarik clears his throat. “I’m Tarik, a friend of Sepora’s and a servant of the Falcon King.” It feels odd, to speak without words.

  Sed beats his chest with a closed fist. “The Falcon King has betrayed our kind. Why should we speak to him at all?”

  “The Falcon King himself has been betrayed. Tell me all that has happened. I will try to help.”

  Sed glances from Sepora to Tarik. Finally he says, “Theorians hunt us down like common fish. They run spears through many young ones and old ones, the weak who cannot fend for themselves, the slow who cannot escape.”

  “This is not the king’s doing,” Tarik says. “His people have turned on him as well.”

  At this, Sed shrugs. “It is not my concern whether the king is unwilling or unable to stop it. It only matters that it’s happening. Our pact has been broken either way. How can we trust any help the king offers now?”

  Tarik takes a moment to bring Sepora abreast of the conversation. Distraught, she removes her sandals and wades into the water to where Sed has stationed himself. “Tell him that the king has plans to retake his kingdom. That all is not lost.” Sed watches her closely, then looks to Tarik for the translation.

  Tarik passes Sepora’s request along. Sed answers immediately. “You are a brave female, and I admire you. But your loyalties lie with an incompetent king whose citizens disregard our kind. Things are no longer under my control. You are not safe to be in the water. You must leave now. I cannot protect you.”

  With this, he glances to his right, and as Tarik follows his gaze, the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. Just upstream, the calm waters of the Nefari are disturbed into a frenzied commotion. He has seen this before; it’s what the water looks like when Parani swarm just below the surface, racing toward their next meal.

  “Get out of the water, Sepora! Hurry!”

  He flings himself at her as the water with a life of its own moves closer to them. Grabbing her arm, he jerks her out of the river and to the shore, both of them soaking with the force of his splash. Just as they reach the dry sand, a webbed hand snatches at her ankle, gripping it solidly and hauling her back to the water’s edge.

  With everything in him, Tarik pulls her from its grasp. The Parani snaps its teeth once, twice, hissing as it retreats back into the water. Tarik wastes no time in dragging Sepora up the hill and to safety.

  They are both panting when they reach the top.

  “What happened?” Sepora says, gasping for breath.

  “Sed no longer leads the Parani. They kill upon sight. We cannot rely on them as allies.” It’s a shortened version of what Sed communicated, but it will have to suffice until his breath doesn’t escape him with every word. He takes Sepora’s hand, pulling her away from the Nefari and toward the Bazaar. He can’t take the chance that the Parani can somehow traverse land and reach them again.

  Halfway to the Bazaar, they decide to break their fast. As he chews on his dried meat and fruit, Tarik mulls over their close call at the river. Of course the Strays have broken the treaty with the Parani. They have broken peace with every law of the land. Their minds outside of reason and sen
se, they obviously see no need for peace and order. It is not something Tarik wanted to see. Perhaps he’d imagined an isolated chaos in the palace, or a handful of Strays running amok in the Bazaar. Things, situations, that could be contained. But the fingers of this new madness are far reaching. If Cy fails to secure the remedy for the Quiet Plague, all could be truly lost.

  “Cy will succeed,” Sepora says quietly. He’s startled that she can read him so easily at times. He must be more mindful of his expressions. Some of his thoughts are not meant for her knowing eyes.

  Especially his thoughts of her.

  31

  SEPORA

  The afternoon sun beats down upon us; walking is much slower than taking a chariot around the kingdom and we move at a treacherous pace in the heat. I don’t think either of us expected it to take this long; we reach the Bazaar by nightfall, but only just.

  Cantor’s booth is closed in the front, but candlelight emanates from the back of his tent. Tarik calls out to him and when he finally peers out of the tent flaps, he frantically gestures for us to come inside.

  “Tarik! Sepora!” Cantor says, eyes wide. “It is not safe for you here at night. What if you are recognized? Servants of the king do not fare well during these times.”

  Not for the first time, I think of Anku and Cara back at the palace. Are they safe? Did they escape? Do they think I’ve abandoned them?

  And what of Nuna? If citizens themselves aren’t safe, what will they do to the future queen’s Serpen? Only those in the room at the time know of Tarik’s renouncement of our engagement. How better for the Strays to punish their king than by punishing his queen?

  Tarik places his hand at the small of my back, ushering me to the inner rooms of the tent as we follow Cantor’s lead. I swallow down the panic. I have to get to the palace. The people aren’t safe. The Parani aren’t safe. Nuna is not safe.

  “The Strays have spies everywhere,” Cantor is saying.

  “So does the king,” Tarik replies, sitting on the carpeted floor across from his friend.

  Cantor nods, grasping Tarik’s meaning. “How can I be of service?”

  “How do the palace servants fare?” I blurt. “What of the princess’s Serpen?”

  Cantor purses his lips. “Most of the palace servants are still intact, Mistress Sepora. They are put to work by the Strays who reside there; that is their only saving grace, that they are useful. As for Princess Magar’s Serpen … I’d hoped when the royals made their escape she had taken it with her.”

  This brings me a semblance of comfort. Perhaps Anku and Cara are among those still deemed useful to the Strays. And hopefully, if they are, they’re of a mind to take care of Nuna. Perhaps even hide her.

  I feel guilty, hoping for my servants’ safety for the sake of Nuna. Of course it’s not all for the sake of Nuna, but it encompasses a great deal of my concern. “Have you … You haven’t seen any Defender Serpen scales being sold at the Bazaar?”

  Cantor regards me solemnly. “I have not, Mistress.”

  Tarik gives me a reassuring look. “They certainly would have made it to the Bazaar. Magar’s own Serpen’s scales would be priceless.”

  I nod, grateful for that consolation. Still, I have the need to see for myself. Nuna is all I have left. But I can wait. At least until I’m not under Tarik’s close scrutiny.

  “There are still a large number of citizens loyal to the king,” Cantor says. “Not all have gone mad, you see. But they have not heard from His Highness for a long time. Some fear him dead.”

  “He is well and alive, Cantor,” Tarik says. “How can we reassure the people of that? And that he needs their support now more than ever?”

  “It will have to be done quietly. The Strays do not hold trials for those loyal to the throne. They exercise immediate execution. They are too wild to do anything with any kind of civility.”

  “What of the Majai? How many of their forces have gone Stray?”

  “The Majai have been spread throughout the city. They await the king’s command. Some have turned, but most remain intact. That is what I hear, anyway.”

  “I need to get word to them, Cantor. I—er, the king needs them to assemble soon.”

  Cantor’s gaze vacillates between me and Tarik. “Before we go further, there is something I must tell you both.”

  A thick anticipation fills the air while Cantor fidgets the hem of his shendyt. “You see,” he says, sucking in a breath, “I know who you are. I’m a Lingot myself, Highness. I’ve known all along.”

  I feel Tarik stiffen at my side. “Why are you just now telling me this?” he says, frustration coloring his tone. “Why did you not make yourself known sooner?”

  “Forgive me, Highness. But I have seen you grow from a young boy to a fine man and a great king. The lie has been weighing upon me for years as you visited my booth, but I could not bear to tell you. I only tell you now because you do not know whom to trust, and if you were to find out from another source that I knew your identity, you would not trust me any longer.”

  Tarik shakes his head. “I cannot believe that you evaded me all this time. How did you do it?”

  “I was careful, Highness. The way only a Lingot knows how to be.”

  At this Tarik flashes me a look, and I flush a little. I’m not a Lingot, but evading the Falcon King seems to be a special gift of mine and we both know it. Even now, I plot against his wishes without him knowing.

  “I consider you a friend, Cantor. And right now, I need all the friends I can gather.”

  Cantor nods. “I’ll discreetly spread the word. For me to do so will take at least a week, as the Majai are spread far apart for safety. You should know that the Serubelans and Stray Majai guard the palace. It will not be easy to seize it from them.”

  Tarik does not acknowledge this warning. I can tell he is lost in thought but his expression has taken on that indifference, the wall he uses so well. “I will send word to you in a week’s time regarding our plans,” he says absently. “Until then, I await news from many sources. I can’t make a decision until I hear from them.” Tarik stands, pulling me up with him. “Sepora and I must go. Our friends in hiding will be expecting us back soon.”

  Cantor stands, too, shaking his head. “You cannot leave, Highness. It’s too dangerous. The Strays adore the nighttime. They come out and wreak havoc until morning. They truly are mad—and they seem to feed off of each other, roaming about in pairs or even crowds. You must stay with me. I have room for the two of you.”

  I’m relieved at Cantor’s suggestion. As exhausted as I am, walking to the palace from the Bazaar is a much better option than walking back from the Baseborn Quarters. With any luck, I can fly Nuna back before morning. “I am weary,” I tell Tarik, trying to sound as pitiful as possible. “And it is a long way back.”

  Tarik regards me suspiciously. My words are mostly true, but I know he detects deceit in them. Or perhaps he just mistrusts everything I say now on principle. Probably both. “I suppose we could stay until morning breaks,” Tarik says, still looking at me, “but we need to leave at first light.”

  I say nothing. It would be foolish to agree; Tarik is already wary of me and at first light, I hope to be high above the desert, flying Nuna back to the Baseborn Quarters. Saying nothing is what is best for my agenda.

  But as Cantor leads us into a separate room of the tent, Tarik’s scowl suggests that to him, saying nothing was worse than lying.

  32

  TARIK

  When Cantor said he had room for the two of them, he failed to mention that he just barely had room. What he had was a small but soft rug on the floor of a tiny compartment in his tent. A compartment so tiny that the rug pulled up at the edges of the tent, not quite small enough to lie flat against the floor.

  Sepora lies on her side facing the canvas wall, her back turned to him. Even so, there is barely a breath of space between them on the pallet. He will have to stay up the entire night to ensure that he doesn’t touch her.

>   And to ensure that she doesn’t wake up in his arms in the morning.

  Even now, the full curves of her figure call to him, so much so that he must keep his fists balled at his side in order not to let them wander. It is not difficult to recall how soft she is, how well her body fits against his. How is he supposed to sleep with her so very close?

  He tries not to give thought to what it would be like to sleep next to her as her husband, to enfold her in his embrace, to fall asleep each and every night with the scent of her intoxicating him. What would it be like to wake up next to her? To watch her open those silver eyes for the first time to the sunlight of a new day? It’s all too easy to imagine, and even more so to pretend it was still going to happen one day.

  No, better to keep awake and think of kingdom matters than this kind of cruel fantasy, which only breeds disappointment and even anger.

  Still, his eyes feel heavy, weighted down by exhaustion. Perhaps he should just sleep, and let things fall as they will. She is tense and awake anyway, he can tell. If she keeps awake, then she’ll be the one to ensure they don’t find themselves entangled in the morning.

  “Are you asleep yet?” Sepora whispers so faintly he almost doesn’t hear it.

  “Why do you keep asking me that?” It is the third time in an hour she’s inquired about it. Or at least, he thinks it’s only been an hour. He has no idea of how late it is. All he knows is how fatigued he is, even with desire singing through him. “Are you worried I’ll fall asleep and smother you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Liar.”

  She turns over so swiftly that it startles him fully awake. Anger flashes on her face as she narrows her eyes at him. “You’re the liar.”

  Something she truly believes. “How’s that exactly?” he says, incredulous.

  “You said you loved me. You said you wanted marriage. Yet, the first mistake I make, and you call off the entire thing.”

  This is unexpected. He swiftly props himself up on his elbow, glaring down at her. “Be serious. You, Princess, are the liar. You kept the other Forgers hidden from me, even when I asked if you had any other secrets.”