He stayed silent, listening to me.
“Maybe I was wrong.”
His eyebrow rose. “About what?”
About telling Rian that his Resistance was foolish. About trying to change Calix. About believing that this country could be saved through peace. I sighed. At least that last one was safe enough to be repeated. “About believing peace is even possible.”
His mouth pursed, and he nodded. “I spent a lot of time reading as a child,” he told me. I tried to imagine the battle-hard warrior with his broken nose in a book. “Histories, mostly. Of war, and such.” His shoulders lifted. “I was meant to be the military commander from a very young age. It seemed wise. But there have been many rebellions, followed by many wars. In the history of our country, and others. The Trifectate started as a rebellion of a small group of people who were thought at the time to be religious fanatics. When there is a rebellion, no party comes out unscathed. The whole country bears a scar so deep that no one in that generation comes out the victor, not truly. They’ve lost so much, even if they won the conflict, that it ceases to matter. Perhaps the next—perhaps the children the survivors sire will have the chance to know prosperity in their lifetime.”
He was silent for a long time, our horses gently clopping along in tandem.
“I know every man in the army. They’ve all crossed my path at least once. If I choose to believe that peace is impossible, I have to be willing to see every one of those men die.” He looked at me, and the green was bright, catching the light of the sun. “Your costs are different, but no less high.”
My hands settled on my stomach, and I thought of all the people I would watch Calix endanger over the life of our marriage. I thought, too, of the people who he would punish if I never returned to the Tri City. Either way there was blood. I shut my eyes.
“Why is it so important to go to the desert?” Galen asked. “With the baby, I mean.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m surprised that Calix took it seriously enough to mention it. He dismissed it when I brought it up.”
He stayed silent, his stony face impassive, and I wondered if Calix had passed it on the same way.
“It’s a blessing,” I said after a moment. “The clans—we’re nomadic people. We travel the desert for weeks, months at a time. But when there’s a new clan member, they need to know the way back to Jitra. They need to be able to find their feet, and find their heart. So we journey to Jitra, and before they’re even born, they’re blessed in the water there. With all the clan around, so they will know family, and home, and love. No matter where sands and stone take them, they will know these things.”
He cleared his throat and nodded. “That would be a beautiful thing to give to any child.”
I sighed. “He won’t consider it. He knows it’s important to me, and he won’t consider it.”
His mouth opened, and it closed again, and he squinted into the distance. Several moments later, he didn’t turn to me, but he asked, “Do you love him?”
Heat rushed to my face, but I wasn’t sure why. It seemed like such an easy question, but it wasn’t a simple answer. “Sometimes I think I cursed myself,” I admitted. “I saw Calix, in Jitra, before the wedding, and he was handsome. I wished …” My embarrassment, my foolishness choked my words. “I wished for him. For him to be my husband. Because I thought it was that easy—I would marry a handsome king and love him. Why would I not? I’ve never met a married couple who were not at least tremendous friends, if not deeply in love. And I thought it would feel powerful, and overwhelming, like a sandstorm.” I flushed, thinking of the jolt in the earth when Galen removed my veil. “And then I understood that I had only a sheltered young girl’s idea of love, and more likely, love is something that grows between two people. And there are moments when he’s kind to me, or thoughtful, and I feel something like hope—but I hate those moments more than any other, because they mean that I am beginning to mistake the absence of cruelty for love.”
His throat worked, and he looked down and back up again. “You know the difference,” he said. “You can’t possibly care about people the way you do and not understand what it means to be truly loved in return.”
I laughed, embarrassed but warmed by his words. “I don’t know. But I do believe that my parents are very lucky. They love each other so very much.”
“Was their marriage arranged?” he asked.
“Of sorts,” I said. “My father was about to become the leader of d’Dragyn, and he wanted to marry. There were only so many suitable women across d’Falcos or d’Skorpios, and my mother was the sister of the man who would become the Falcon.”
“So the position is passed from father to son?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Well, in a manner. The clan leader will groom someone for the position; often it is a child of theirs, but not always. The clan leader must be the strongest, the most fit to lead. It doesn’t happen often, but if need be, the leader will select someone outside his family.” I smiled. “So I suppose you could say their marriage was arranged.”
“So was there ever someone else?” Galen asked, and his mouth teased at a smile.
“For my parents?” I asked, horrified. “No. They loved each other from the start.”
He laughed, and it was unexpected. “For you,” he said. “Surely you can’t have grown up thinking you’d marry Calix. What plans did you have for your life?”
“I thought I’d be just like my mother,” I admitted. “There’s a d’Skorpios boy around my age, Alekso. He was being groomed, and my brothers had met him and said he would be a good leader. I figured that was all there was to it—he would be my husband, and as soon as he removed my veil we would fall wildly in love and have seven children.” Even I had to laugh at how that sounded now, and Galen chuckled with me. The laugh stung my cheek, and I sobered. “How life has changed in a few short months,” I said.
But he had caught the bit of information I had accidentally betrayed. “Your husband is meant to remove the veil?” he asked.
Blood rushed into my face, pounding beneath the bruise. “Yes,” I said, glancing at him.
He met my eyes. “No one told us that.”
“They wouldn’t have,” I said. “Certainly not after it happened. The unveiling is supposed to be a spiritual connection—a binding. Some higher power. It’s supposed to be the husband who unveils his wife, revealing her to him. The start of their life together. The forging of their bond.” I gave him a sad smile.
“And I unveiled you,” he said, his voice low. “Not my brother.”
His eyes met mine. They looked bright and unnaturally green, regarding me in a way that made my skin tingle and shiver, the sensation as delicious as it was dangerous. I tore my eyes away from him. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“No,” he said, and I glanced back to him. He was gazing ahead, sitting straighter, with a ghost of a smug smile on his face. “I’m glad you did.”
Trizala
With another stretch of breathless galloping in the afternoon, we made Trizala well after nightfall; I almost regretted my fast rides that brought us to this strange new city without the light to see by.
Galen said we were getting close when the road rose steeply, the horses slowly climbing switchbacks cut into a mountain. It was dark, and the growing height made me uneasy, but Galen seemed confident and sure, and I followed close behind him.
After another turn, Galen stopped as we faced a wall, a stone gate bridged right over the road.
“Open the gate for the Trifectate Queen!” he bellowed.
“Open the gate!” someone called back.
Without us seeing how, the gate slowly rose until we could pass easily with our horses, and Galen ducked his head and rode into the dark shadow. I followed him, holding my breath.
A torch illuminated the dark area, and the man holding it bowed. Galen nodded to him without saying anything, and rode on.
The city was built into the mountain, houses balanced al
ong the road, which continued in switchbacks up the mountain. As we continued higher, the houses were more elaborate and huge, carved into the rock itself.
“It’s like Jitra,” I marveled. “I never knew there was another city like this.”
Galen turned around, one side of his mouth winging upward. “I thought you’d like it. I figured you’d feel safe here.”
He turned around front, and it took me a moment to spur my horse to follow him. Perhaps I was just starved for affection, but his thoughtfulness touched my heart.
We kept going until we crested the mountain. At the top, there was a great flat space carved out between the mountains, and it was lit with a hundred torches. People were gathered there, a man who I guessed was a vestai and his family, and I dismounted, taking in the grand spectacle of it. Peering off the edge into the night, I could only get a rough sense of the sweep and beauty of this view; it felt like a rich, dark mystery, full of promise.
“Definitely crafted by Elementae,” Kairos said, coming up behind me. “Maybe you’re not the first Elementa from the desert, you know. Jitra would make a lot more sense.”
I looked at the rocks. “Maybe,” I whispered back.
He put his hands on my shoulders. “How are you feeling?”
Leaning against him, I smiled the small bit that my bruise would allow. “Free,” I told him.
Like a good brother, he didn’t remind me that was a lie, even as his hawk wheeled around us and dove for something in the dark, the only creature here that was really free to do as he pleased. Kairos just rubbed warmth into my shoulders and stood behind me.
Vestai Nikan brought us to his stronghold, tucked into the mountains. The rooms were all carved stone, cool and dark, and walking into them, I felt my power bubbling around me. Not triggered or pulled, nothing to do with me—just preexisting and natural.
Zeph and Theron went into my chamber while I waited in the hall. Galen stood across from me, close enough that our feet were nearly touching, and Kai wandered up and down the hall, restless, looking at everything.
“What will we do here?” I asked, glancing around. “In my rush to leave, I hadn’t thought what I would actually be doing.”
“Whatever you wish,” Galen told me. “I would recommend addressing the people at some point. Vestai Nikan is planning a feast in your honor tomorrow night.”
I nodded. “Thank you,” I told him.
Galen didn’t look at me. “Of course.” Zeph emerged and nodded, Theron coming out a moment behind him. “Secure?” Galen asked.
“Yes, sir. My queen,” Zeph said, gesturing me into the room.
“You’re not going to stay here, are you?” I asked them.
“Kairos and I will sleep next door,” Galen told me. “But yes, they will absolutely stay here.”
“They haven’t slept, and they’ve been riding all day. Can’t one of the others stay here?” I asked.
“Theron will sleep and I’ll watch over you, my queen,” Zeph told me. “I’ll be fine waiting until tomorrow.”
“But you won’t be sharp,” Kairos said. “I’ll stay the night, and then I’ll sleep during the day tomorrow while Shy performs whatever queenly duties she must.”
Zeph frowned.
“Very well,” Galen said. “Just for tonight.”
Kairos stepped closer to my door, and the muscles of Zeph’s arms tightened. “My queen,” he said, looking at the ground. “I won’t offer you an apology. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and you shouldn’t give it to me. But please know that I will regret failing you for the rest of my days,” he said.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I told him. “You couldn’t have changed anything that happened yesterday.”
“My queen—” Theron started.
I held up a hand. “I grew up with six brothers. Five of whom were older than me.”
“I’m aware,” Kairos said drily.
I gave him a look. “I understand that I’m bruised, and that you all care very much about my safety and my health. You care about chivalry and what a woman may or may not deserve. And I treasure that. Your concern means a great deal to me. But your guilt isn’t about me, or my body, or my pain. It’s about Calix, and it’s about you seeing me as a thing that needs to be protected, like I shattered when he h-hit me.”
They all looked at me as my voice failed me for a moment, and I pressed my lips together, trying to stop more unwanted emotions from rushing out.
“I don’t want to feel broken. I don’t want to give him that power. Calix did not—and will never—break me. So don’t apologize, and if you must feel guilty, then share that with someone other than me. Do you understand?”
They all nodded grimly.
“I hope this is the last we have to discuss it,” I told them.
Zeph nodded, nudging the others away. He, at least, understood when he was dismissed.
Galen glanced at me and turned away, following my guards. Kairos slipped inside my room before I could shut the door.
I shut it behind him with a sigh. He went to the windows, gazing out into the darkness, looking at the windows themselves. “Well,” he said. “We should be able to get pretty far before they realize you’re gone.” He turned back to me. “If we’re leaving.”
Drawing a breath, I shook my head slowly. “We can’t leave, Kairos. Or I can’t leave. But I think you should go back to the desert.”
He snorted. “Like hell,” he said. “Why would I ever leave you alone after all that’s happened?”
“Because he won’t hurt me the way he’ll hurt you,” I said, squeezing my hands together, trying to stop the trembles that came anyway.
“I swore a promise,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’ll make him regret what he’s done to you.”
“No,” I said, looking at him. “No. This,” I said, fingering the bruise on my face, “is a distraction. Yesterday Calix proved that he’s not interested in peace. Maybe he’s interested in submission; maybe he wants war. Maybe he doesn’t care. But I still want peace, Kairos.”
He lifted his shoulders. “How can you get it if he doesn’t want it?”
“That’s what I need to figure out. But it is not so simple as running back to the desert—or anywhere—when he still has men there. We cannot risk more lives.” I looked out the window, into the dark that was dotted with torchlight in a strange pattern. “The greater question is whether peace can ever be achieved with Calix as king.”
He drew a long breath. “Rian believes it can’t.”
I tucked my hands around myself, rubbing warmth into my arms. “And if I believe that, then it would make sense to join Rian. To help the Resistance.”
Kairos’s eyes flicked to the wall, reminding me that my guards were likely next door, not to mention my husband’s brother. “Have you considered other options?”
I looked to him. “Such as?”
“Waiting until your child is born, and then removing Calix.”
I shuddered, shaking my head.
He looked at me, and he appeared so much older suddenly. “None of these options will let him live, Shalia. If he lives, then there will be no peace.”
I thought of Galen, of seeing every face of every soldier and choosing their deaths and calling it peace.
“Besides, you may not have that long,” Kairos said. “Your power is growing stronger. It seems like it’s harder for you to control it. If he ever sees it, baby or not, your choices—if not your life—will be taken away.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“The desert can repel the Trifectate men who are there. It would only take a note from Osmost, and it would be done. We could run right now.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s rash, and it’s risky. Besides, Galen and the Saepia will pay the price for it. I won’t bring that on their heads after all they’ve done for me. I need more time to think. That’s why we came here,” I told him.
His mouth drew tight, but he didn’t disagree with me. “Very well.”
He shook his head. “No. But we would have heard by now if he wasn’t.”
I sighed. “I suppose.”
He came forward and kissed my cheek. “Good night, Shy.”
After everything that happened, it wasn’t my husband hitting me that haunted my dreams. It was the attack in the Tri City, seeing the soldier hack into the man’s arm without cutting it off completely. A gaping wound with a geyser of blood.
In my dream it sprayed all over me, hot and soaking my hair, my skin, my clothes.
I woke up with a scream, and Kairos was in the room before I was fully awake, his double swords unsheathed and ready. Shaking my head, I told him, “A dream.”
“I’ll stay in here until you fall asleep,” he told me.
I shook my head. “That may be a while.” I got out of the bed, pulling one of my thickest coats around me. “It’s colder up here, isn’t it?”
He nodded, and I went to the small basin of water. I dipped my hands in it, splashing water carefully on my face. I looked up and my reflection stared back at me, my brown cheek stained purple and black, the area around the cut swollen and red.
“It feels fake,” I told him. “The way it looks—this isn’t my face.”
Kairos’s lip curled. “Wait until you see how colorful bruises can look on his pale skin.”
“You can’t hit the king, Kai.”
“Galen got to,” he grunted.
“Calix isn’t your brother.”
“Brother by marriage.”
“Besides,” I told him, with as much of a smile as I could muster, “you were never the brother who hit back. You were the one to put a scorpion in a bedroll.”
He looked at me, calculating and dangerous. “Yes,” he said. “So just imagine what your husband has earned.”
I looked at him. “Perhaps I’m the scorpion in that situation.”
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