“Why did you come here without me?” he asked.
“I didn’t mean to. It just . . . happened.” Ana put her hand to her forehead. “Nothing turned out like I imagined.”
Teo looked closely at Ana’s face. “You’ve been crying.”
“Yeah. Now my eyes are all puffy.”
He kissed her cheek. “You’re still beautiful though.” He smiled warmly. “Remember, we walk together, okay?”
She nodded. “Hand in hand, Teo. I promise.”
Downstairs a door creaked open. Ana’s head swung around, and she let out a gasp.
“Wait here,” Teo said.
He drew his sword.
C H A P T E R
14
The ruby-red wine caught the light of the candles as it swirled in the crystal goblet. It was an excellent vintage, the best Chiveis had to offer. The full-bodied wine was heavy in the mouth and dry on the palate, the perfect accompaniment to the meal of roasted venison in garlic sauce. Everything about the dinner was perfect: not only the food and wine but the moonlit view from the terrace, the pleasant coolness of the air, the glittering stars overhead. Pink roses were on the table, their delicate, voluptuous folds heightening the sensual mood. Yet despite these many allures, the most enchanting vision of all was the magnificent woman across the table. No man could tear his gaze from such an exotic beauty—so powerful, so enticing, so bewitching. The High Priestess of Chiveis had arrayed herself in splendor, and the Iron Shield was captivated.
“More wine?” she asked, raising the decanter.
“Gladly. We have much to celebrate. The mission was successful.”
The High Priestess refilled her guest’s glass. “I am pleased to hear it. Yet my sources tell me you lost some of the brimstone.”
“There was an attack,” the Iron Shield admitted. He took a bite of meat and chewed it as he calmed himself, then sipped his wine. “Teofil managed to destroy some cargo, but most of it remained unharmed.”
“I have seen it. An excellent shipment.”
“It pleases you?”
“Indeed. I now have enough for my needs.”
The Iron Shield nodded at the beautiful priestess. “It has long been my desire to satisfy your needs, my queen.”
A servant approached with the next course, a tossed salad of leafy greens in a vinaigrette dressing. He served the two diners, then disappeared into the shadows.
“What news of the invasion?” the Iron Shield asked.
The High Priestess slipped a fingernail behind a dark wisp of hair and drew it back from her forehead. She wore her hair parted in the middle so that her white cheeks were framed by long, glossy tresses. Her eyes flicked away from the table to the distant horizon. “Our confederates have encamped before the Citadel’s walls. Even now my soldiers are gathering supplies. I expect to march on Jineve within a week.”
“Count on five hundred of my shamans at your service.”
“Not at my service. They serve the Beautiful One.”
“That is what I meant. Exalted be the name of Astrebril.”
The invocation brought a coy smile to the priestess’s lips. “I like a man who understands where power lies,” she said.
“Power is an intoxicating drink,” the Iron Shield agreed. “My brotherhood has a saying: Crudelitas vis est.”
“And that means?”
“Cruelty is strength.”
“Ah, yes. Cruelty is indeed a form a strength, though there are others as well.” The High Priestess raised her glass to her guest. “May your strength always last.”
“It will last long,” replied the Iron Shield, and together they drank.
A different servant returned with the cheese plate. Although his movements were smooth and efficient, the Iron Shield immediately detected the man was on edge. He set out a selection of hard, soft, and moldy cheeses, along with freshly sliced fruit in a bowl. After handing the cheese fork wrapped in a linen napkin to the High Priestess, he darted back inside the temple.
The Iron Shield had trained himself to notice the tiniest details, and now he pointed to the fork in the priestess’s hand. “A message,” he said.
The High Priestess withdrew a slip of paper from the napkin. Her eyes flared as she read it, and a snarl curled up her mouth. She stroked the iron collar at her neck as if it were a talisman.
“There is a problem, my queen?”
The priestess glanced up, her face livid. “The queen mother has decided to probe into matters that should be left in the past. She has summoned the mother of Anastasia to testify at a tribunal before the Royal Guard.”
“What does the woman know?”
“I am not certain. But there are secrets about the Battle of Toon that must not come out.”
“Can she be silenced?”
The Iron Shield received no reply. Instead the priestess stood up from the table and strode to the terrace railing. The moon’s pale glow reflected off the inky blackness of the Tooner Sea, but the warrior paid it no mind. He could only stare at the priestess’s shapely form as she gazed across the whitewashed landscape. At last, when he could remain still no longer, he rose and took a step toward her. He did not dare approach any closer. She did not turn around.
“The Exterminati are adept at secret killing,” he suggested.
“No,” replied the High Priestess, still motionless. “Not with Katerina and the Warlord involved. In such cases death must come as divine judgment. Leave the matter to me.”
“If there is another way I might serve you, I am willing.”
The priestess whirled, hands on her hips, eyes eager and bright. The Iron Shield saw the hunger on her face. A low, feral growl escaped him, and his heart began to pound.
“As I told you, I like a man who understands where power lies.” The High Priestess leaned forward and licked her lips. “Come now, my servant. Come and worship your queen.”
Ana held her breath in her bedroom as Teo crept downstairs. She heard his shout of accusation followed by a terrified yelp. Fortunately the commotion wasn’t followed by the sound of a struggle.
“Ana, you can come down,” Teo yelled. “There’s a man here who says he knows your parents.”
She descended to the living room and was surprised to see the pale-faced old man she had passed on the street. A thin scar traced down his left cheek. Now Ana could see the reason for his pallor and reddened lips: the man had the consumption disease. He probably didn’t have long to live.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” the man wheezed, “but when I saw the daughter of Helena had returned, I knew there were some things I had to say.”
Teo sheathed his sword, yet his tone was still suspicious. “Have a seat, stranger,” he said. “We’ll hear you out, but at this point we don’t trust anyone in the kingdom.”
“You can trust me. I’m a man of the Fifth, and a loyal servant of Armand.” The visitor looked at Ana. “My name is Barnabas, and I was your grandfather’s personal physician.” No sooner had he finished speaking than he broke into a fit of violent coughs.
Ana went to a sideboard and poured a cup of water, handing it to the suffering man. “Welcome to my home, Barnabas,” she said.
“Thank you, dear one.” Barnabas dabbed his mouth with his bloodstained kerchief. “I apologize for my condition. It seems I’m a walking corpse these days.” After a few more hacking barks he gathered himself and tucked his cloth away. Teo and Ana sat on seats opposite their visitor, waiting for him to speak. Barnabas sipped his water, then said, “I will tell you what I told your parents. I believe Armand’s death was an act of treachery.”
Teo raised his eyebrows. “That is a serious accusation, friend.”
“Even more so if I had evidence to back it up.”
“Tell us your story,” Ana said.
Barnabas leaned back in his chair and took another sip of water. When he had safely swallowed it without coughing, he began to recount a tale of intrigue and betrayal. “Thirty years ago at the Battle of Toon, the
Royal Guard was divided over a captain named Hanson. He was a handsome fellow, a powerful warrior from the Second Regiment and a charismatic leader of men. Hanson had fallen in love with a young girl who only partially returned his affections. She was the Warlord’s daughter.”
Ana inhaled sharply. “My mother.”
“Yes. Hanson made a play for her, and things turned physical, until he was caught in the act by your grandfather. The punishment was severe, and Hanson’s regiment resented it. The men of the Fifth, however, supported Armand. But there was more to this than regimental rivalry. Political and military careers hung in the balance. Many high-ranking hopefuls had tied their futures to one man or the other. Secret plots were devised. Everything came to a head at the Battle of Toon.”
Teo leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Are you suggesting the battle was a setup? A coup or something like that?”
“The battle was a real battle, because the outsiders attacked Chiveis. Yet certain covert assurances were given to them. I witnessed with my own eyes how the Second Regiment fell back from the king and left him to die.”
“Cowards!” Teo spat.
Barnabas gave a little nod.
“What happened next?”
“Armand stepped in.” The old man’s expression took on a faraway look as he recalled the fateful day. “Never have I seen a warrior with such skill. Armand cut down the enemy left and right. His blade was like a scythe through grass. The king had been stunned by a slingstone, but Armand stood over him with”—Barnabas lowered his eyes toward Teo’s belt—“the sword you now wear.”
Teo stood up. Ana watched him withdraw his weapon from its sheath. The hilt was inlaid with silver, and the blade was forged from the finest steel. Ana couldn’t help but marvel at the historic sword. Many times she had seen it make the difference between life and death—for herself and for others in need. Admiration swelled in her heart as she saw the man she loved holding such a noble weapon.
“You are worthy to wear that sword,” she said.
“Armand would have been proud to see it,” Barnabas agreed, “but an arrow took him down.”
Teo frowned as he sheathed the blade. “A tragedy.”
“You might call it something else when you consider the enemy’s archers were nowhere near.”
Ana’s head snapped around, and so did Teo’s. “What are you saying?” she asked.
“I’m saying your grandfather was shot by the Second Regiment. At least, that is how it appeared to me. The arrow came from their direction. Armand fell just as the soldiers of the Fifth arrived to deliver the king. The wound was in his chest. He was taken to a nearby orphanage, where he died.”
“I was raised at that orphanage,” Teo said. “It was an infamous event. Many of the older children remembered it, though I wasn’t born until a few months after the battle.”
Barnabas nodded grimly. “I nursed Armand to the best of my ability. The wound turned septic, but I used the most effective herbs to draw out the infection. At last he seemed to improve. Then he took an unexpected turn for the worse, and death claimed him.”
Ana hung her head. “I never knew him.”
“He was a great man,” Barnabas said. “King Piair was deeply saddened. He took Armand’s sword as a treasure to be awarded only to a warrior of equal skill. Then he ordered an investigation into the conspiracy. I testified to what I just told you. I even said something I still believe to this day, though I have no evidence to back up my claim.”
“And what is that?” Teo asked.
“I believe Armand was poisoned. There is no other explanation for his sudden demise.”
Ana recoiled with her hand to her chest. “Who would do such a thing? It seems beyond any guardsman to poison his own Warlord in his sickbed.”
“The men of the Second were scattered by then, so an assassination would have been difficult to pull off even if they wanted to.”
“Who else, then?”
“Hard to say. The previous High Priestess had no use for Armand because he was outspoken against her religion. No doubt she would have liked to see him dead, but she had no access to him.”
“Who did have access? Were you the only caretaker?”
“Yes, it was only me. I cooked all his food myself. A few of the orphan children cleaned the laundry and emptied the bedpans, but they were just little girls who were never alone with him.”
“Are you sure?” Teo probed.
Barnabas tipped his head in a shrug. “Who can be absolutely sure about such things? It’s not like I could sit at Armand’s bedside every second. I do remember one of those girls—Greta, her name was. She was just a child at the time, though she had a precocious way about her. Long, black hair—a pretty little thing. Too pretty, if you know what I mean. I caught her in the Warlord’s room one day and shooed her out. I remember how she stared at me with her green eyes. Then she just smiled and left.”
“You say her name was Greta?”
“As I recall.”
Ana exchanged glances with Teo. She knew they were thinking the same thing: That description sounds awfully familiar. We need to find out more about little Greta.
Barnabas broke into coughs again but soothed himself with the cool water. At last he stood up from his chair. “It’s dark now, and I should be going. Lock the doors tonight unless you want to be disturbed by marauding guardsmen.” He shuffled over to Ana. When she reached to shake his hand he waved her off, conscious of his disease. “I’m very sorry about your mother and father,” he said. “But perhaps the truth shall prevail.”
“What’s the matter with Mother and Father?” Ana asked, alarmed. “Where are they?”
Barnabas’s eyes grew wide. “Oh! I assumed you knew!” A bleak expression settled onto the old man’s pallid face. “They were arrested earlier today by the Royal Guard.”
“Arrested? Does the High Priestess have them now?”
“I’m not sure.” The army doctor wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. “I’m very sorry, Anastasia. I truly am.”
Ana wrestled with the dreadful news while Teo showed Barnabas to the door and locked it behind him. When Teo returned, Ana stared at him with her mouth agape. She felt like crying again, yet she fought back the tears and clung to hope by the thinnest of threads.
“What are we going to do?” she asked Teo.
“Deu will show us the way.”
“Deu has abandoned Chiveis! The kingdom is overrun with outsiders. Our soldiers steal the crops of hard-working men. My parents are jailed while murderers go unpunished. Everything is turned on end!”
“No, Ana.”
“Yes! Chiveis has come to ruin.”
Teo shook his head. He reached down to Ana’s side and curled his hand around hers. “Follow me,” he said.
They went upstairs to Ana’s bedroom. “Go out on the balcony,” Teo instructed. “I’ll join you in a moment.” He turned toward his rucksack while Ana stepped outside.
The hour was late now, and the moon had risen. The balcony’s wooden floor was cold against Ana’s bare feet. She waited at the railing until Teo came to her.
“I have something to give you,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”
She flashed him a halfhearted smile. “After all this time, haven’t you realized I’m not the kind of girl you can buy off with presents?”
Teo grinned. “With this one I can. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
Ana complied. Teo laid something solid and heavy in her upraised palms.
“Now look.”
When Ana’s eyes popped open she saw the gift was a book—the beautiful edition prepared at Roma called the Versio Secunda Chiveisorum. The book’s cover was decorated with silver filigree, and its central panel displayed her embroidery of a pastoral landscape. Snowcapped peaks rose into a blue sky. Milch cows grazed on the lush grass. The mountain-star flowers dotted the meadows. And above it all, a triumphant turtledove soared over Chiveis, its outstretched
wings catching the light of the rising sun.
“Oh,” Ana breathed, “it’s beautiful. Thank you, Teo.”
“Thank Deu. The Sacred Writing has come to Chiveis at last.”
Ana looked up and met Teo’s gaze. “That has long been my dream.”
“I know. I’m happy to see it come true.”
“Teo, you’re so good to me! I don’t deserve you . . . but I’m glad you’re mine.”
“I am yours, Ana. You’ve conquered me. My whole heart belongs to you.”
He smiled at her in the moonlight, and Ana’s heartbeat quickened. She arched her back and leaned forward, welcoming Teo with excitement, drawing him to herself. He stepped close and took her cheeks in his hands. Bending his neck, he kissed her with surprising gentleness. Teo lingered for a long time as the two lovers relished the soft caress of their lips. When he finally parted Ana did not want him to go. Her body was alive to the profound connection that united her to the man she loved. Although the bond wasn’t new, it felt even more vibrant after the intimacy of their kiss.
Teo took a deep breath as he gestured over the balcony’s railing. “It’s time, Anastasia. Are you ready?”
She released the Secunda with one hand so she could intertwine her fingers with his. He pulled her close. Ana clasped the book to her chest as she stood beside Teo.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Just lead the way, Captain.”
Deep in the woods of the Beyond, Lina screamed at the sky as she lay on her back. The young woman’s face was twisted by pain and exhaustion. Her white-blonde ringlets hung lank against her face. She writhed in the grass as the baby’s head finally crowned after twenty hours of labor. Lina bore down hard—pressing, squeezing, pushing the way women have for millennia. Her cheeks were flushed, and her brow was furrowed. Somehow she managed to pant and cry at the same time.
Shaphan gripped his wife’s hand. “You can do it, Lina! Just push!”
She gave another great effort, and then it was over. The baby’s head slid free, followed soon after by its chubby body. Though Shaphan was no midwife, the basic principles weren’t so different from birthing a lamb. He swatted the baby’s behind and was rewarded with an energetic cry.
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