Glynnis stood and wrapped a towel around Tirialle. The girl stepped from the tub and walked toward a door, the only one besides the door Lyra had entered through. She turned toward Lyra.
“Don’t be long if you plan to say goodbye. Your friend and Captain Pularus leave with him.”
Lyra watched the girl exit, while Glynnis followed and pulled the door shut behind her. The room suddenly became far less cheery. Cal was leaving.
Released from her father’s embrace, Tirialle stepped back beside Glynnis. “Be well, Father.” The girl appeared radiant in the mid-day sun.
“Don’t worry, Tiri. Captain Pularus and his men will capture Sol Polis in short order.” Tallinor glanced toward Cal. “If the intelligence we’ve gathered is true, the Ministry will have few men to hold the city. Once captured, I’ll ensure the city’s new governance before I return. If all goes well, I’ll be back within a week.”
The girl nodded.
Tallinor turned to Lyra and gave a small smile. “Please remember, the palace is now your home. If you need anything while I’m away, Glynnis can help you.”
With that, Tallinor descended the stairs outside the Citadel walls, toward the ranks of men waiting below. A single carriage hooked to two workhorses waited at the foot of the stairs. Beyond the carriage, soldiers stood ready, arranged in rows six men wide, a hundred men deep. Sensing his gaze on her, Lyra turned toward Cal.
He gave her a sad smile. “I must go.”
She nodded. “I know.”
His gaze shifted down toward her feet. “I wish you the best, Lyra. I...”
Cal stopped mid-speech when Lyra’s arms wrapped about him, her lips pressed against his. After a moment, his stance softened, his arms returning her embrace as he gave himself to the moment. Her head swam with emotion, her heart pounding as she poured her soul into the kiss, praying that it might ignite something within and convince him to stay.
He pulled away and cupped her cheek, using his thumb to dry the tear tracking down. “Be well, Lyra.”
Cal turned and descended the stairs. Lyra wiped her eyes as she watched him climb into Tallinor’s wagon. Garrett walked to the fore of their ranks as the horses kicked into a trot and turned west, down the road leading to the west gate.
“Sun soldiers! Move out!” Garrett and two others led the army down the street, following the king’s carriage.
Lyra remained still, not moving until the last soldier passed beneath the city gate. She expected that the Sun Army would have little issue taking Sol Polis, given that the city was now bereft of men – men pilfered to build The Hand’s monstrous army. No, she wasn’t at all concerned about Garret or Tallinor. Her thoughts focused on Cal as she found herself longing to be with him.
I will see you again, Pascal Fallbrandt. When I do, you’ll not leave me so easily. That’s a promise.
Harman blinked as his Grandmother stood and gathered the empty cups.
“That’s enough for tonight, dear.” Jane announced. “It’s time for bed.”
“But…I…what happens next? Does Lyra find Cal? What’s life like at the palace? What became of Gar and the Tantarri?”
The woman smiled. “See. History can be interesting. However, it will have to wait. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow, but only if you focus on your studies so you’re ready for your entrance exam.”
Harman stood, torn between defeat and the lure of discovering what became of Lyra.
“You promise?”
“I promise, dear.” Jane pointed toward the stairs. “Your grandfather is due back tomorrow evening, and we can finish the story before he arrives. Now, go on and get yourself to bed.”
Harman climbed the stairs and entered his room at the end of the hall. He removed his tunic and breeches before slipping into bed. There he lay, his mind recalling the adventures from his grandmother’s tale. Eventually, sleep overcame him, and he slept peacefully, knowing that he would soon discover what became of Lyra.
Part II
Destiny
25
Harman finished recording the entry in his ledger. He closed the history book, setting it atop the stack piled on his desk before looking over his notes. A growl from his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in hours, and a glance at the long shadows outside his window notified him that it was later than he realized.
When Harman emerged from his room, his mouth began to water when the scent of cooked beef greeted him. Taking two stairs at a time, he descended to the main level and found his grandmother stirring a black kettle sitting on a grate, the open flame licking its cast iron body.
“There you are.” She gave him a smile. “I was beginning to worry that you decided to try and sneak out again.”
Harman shrugged. “To tell you the truth, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me.” He plopped down on a chair and rested his arm on the table, his fingers tapping it absently, causing the spoon resting beside him to wobble. “It turns out that history books aren’t so bad when you are actually seeking information.”
Jane gave him a knowing smile. “Really? And what did you discover?”
“A lot, yet not enough,” he sighed. “The story you told yesterday mentioned King Tallinor of Kalimar. I poured through the books you gave me and found references to him and his reign, but nothing explains what happened to him. The books state that he died and that a period of turmoil followed, with numerous players taking turns on the Emblem Throne over the following decades. During that time, the borders of Kalimar expanded and contracted numerous times, primarily between them and Vinacci. However, nothing explains how he died or who ruled afterward. Kalimar endured thirty-seven years of instability after Tallinor’s death, finally finding peace under the rule of King Stavin, the current ruler.”
Jane removed the pot from the fire and set it on the hearth.
“So, those history books don’t provide the details you’re after?”
“Not really,” he responded.
She crossed the kitchen to a cupboard and grabbed two bowls. “Well, you’re in luck, young man.” Using a ladle, she dumped two scoops into a bowl and brought it over. The woman set the bowl between Harman and the plate of hard rolls at the table’s center. “I happen to know what really occurred in Kalimar…and who took the throne after Tallinor.” She returned to the pot and filled the other bowl.
“Is that related to the story you told me last night?”
Jane smiled, nodding as she settled into the opposite chair with a steaming bowl of stew waiting for each of them.
“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned.
He nodded as he scooped up some stew, blowing on the steaming beef, potatoes, and carrots to cool them. The first bite was hot, burning his tongue in his eagerness to eat. The second, less so. By the third, Harman was eating at a hearty pace. Within minutes, his bowl was empty and only crumbs remained on a plate previously occupied by two hard rolls. A minute after he finished, his grandmother set her spoon down and sat back, their eyes meeting. She smiled.
“I suppose you’re ready for the rest of Lyra’s story?”
He nodded, unable to restrain his grin.
“Let’s see here.” Jane bit her lip as she stared into space. “When we left off, Tallinor and the Kalimar army had departed for Sol Polis. They soon captured the city, taking it from what remained of the Ministry. As a reward for thwarting The Hand’s plan to overthrow Tallinor and the other rulers, the king named Captain Pularus the Duke of Sol Polis.
“Lyra settled into her new life at the palace. Tirialle treated her like a sister, Tallinor like a daughter, and she lived the life of a princess. This went on for some time, but Lyra rarely followed the rules, and her rebellious nature frequently got her into trouble. Three years passed before things went too far. Perhaps things would have worked out differently for Tallinor if she had behaved differently. Lyra felt like she should have seen it coming. Looking back, she traced the beginning of Tallinor’s end to a nondescript spring evening of her eighteenth year.”<
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A lonely flame flickered on the torch at the end of the corridor, its amber light consumed by the darkness in the other direction. Lyra crept toward the light, listening for footsteps as she neared the bend. The briefest glance around the corner enabled her to take a mental picture, recalling a long hallway lit at both ends, dark and empty in between.
She rounded the corner and scurried beyond the torchlight, melting into the shadows. Stopping before a closed door nestled between two tapestries, she tested the handle and found it locked. The sound of approaching footsteps triggered internal alarms and set her heart racing.
The far corner was too distant to reach before the guard reached the corridor, so Lyra squeezed behind a statue occupying the small alcove opposite the door. Sticky webs caught in her hair, its disturbed occupant scurrying across her forehead. With a flick, she sent the spider flying toward the wall and hoped there were no others. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
The footsteps grew louder and a dim shadow emerged, shrinking as the man drew further from the torch and closer to her position. Lyra held her breath when the man appeared, pausing to stand between the statue and the door. The guard tested the knob, nodded, and resumed his rounds.
Only after the man turned the corner and his footsteps faded, did Lyra emerge from her hiding spot. She drew the dagger at her hip, along with the two bent needles that shared the sheath with the blade. Squatting, she pushed one needle into the keyhole, moving it carefully until she felt the tumbler. With a twist, it clicked. The other needle joined the first, seeking the second tumbler until it, too, clicked into place. Her blade then slid into the key hole, turning such that the knob turned with it and the door opened a crack. She then stood, sheathed the knife and needles, and slipped inside the room.
Lyra quietly closed the door and listened in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted, the canopied bed at the heart of the room took form, illuminated by the dim starlight coming through the glass-paned balcony doors at the far end of the room. A divan and a table occupied the area beside her, while a nightstand, vanity, and chair were placed beyond the bed. Along the wall between her and the balcony was a fireplace, the scent of a recent fire still hanging in the air.
As Lyra crossed the room, she found articles of clothing strewn across the floor. She bent and picked one up, smiling when she recognized it as a men’s doublet. Two steps brought her before the fireplace, where she grabbed the fire iron and began prodding the dark coals.
Orange light appeared as she stirred the ashes. She tossed the doublet inside and blew on the coals until flame popped to life and began licking the green velvet cloth. As the fire consumed the doublet, she gathered the other items of clothing…a dress, breeches, a bodice, men’s smallclothes…and tossed them into the growing flames.
Hearing a snore behind her, she turned and approached the bed, the deep red curtains that surrounded it now illuminated in orange flickering light. She slipped beneath the curtain that covered the foot of the bed and climbed on until she was standing between the two people who lay sleeping.
“Aaargh!” Lyra shouted and raised her arms in a menacing manner.
The woman in the bed sat up and screamed. The man in the bed sat up and screamed. Lyra screamed back at them, all three screaming in unison. Lyra’s scream subsided as laughter replaced it. She collapsed on the bed, holding her stomach as she laughed.
“Lyra!” the woman shouted. “How dare you?”
The man was breathing heavily, holding his hand to his bare chest. “That was most unseemly for a…a lady such as yourself.”
The woman held the covers to her neck, exposing bare shoulders as she stared at Lyra with eyes of fury, her face twisted in rage. “She’s no lady. She’s a filthy rascal who refuses to act with propriety.”
With her laughter under control, Lyra rolled over the woman’s legs and sat at the edge of the bed to pull the curtains aside. She stood and the door blasted open. Three guards stormed into the room, one with a torch in hand, the others with swords brandished.
“We’re here, my Queen! What happened?” Mandrick stood ready, searching for an enemy.
Lyra raised her hands high. “You’ve caught me. I’ll come along without a fight.”
The captain of the guard looked at her with his single eye, frowning.
“What’s this about, Lyra?”
Lyra shrugged. “I was just testing myself, making sure my skills hadn’t slipped.” She looked back and found the man beside the queen hiding beneath the quilt with it pulled over his head. “I had heard that there were rodents in this part of the castle. It turns out that the rumors were true, for I have found a rat.”
“You go too far!” Queen Jessibel shouted. She looked at Mandrick while pointing at Lyra. “I want her arrested!”
Mandrick appeared taken aback. “Arrested? On what grounds, Your Highness?”
“On…trespassing. She entered my private room without leave.”
Mandrick looked at the other two guards, who shrugged. “But she’s part of the Citadel, a member of the royal family. If I arrested her for entering your chamber, wouldn’t that apply to your servants and guards as well?”
Jessibel, a pretty woman when she wasn’t angry, yanked the quilt from the man who hid beneath it and stood, wrapping it around herself. The naked man yelped and rolled off the bed, falling through the curtain on the far side and landing on the floor with a hard grunt.
The queen sneered as she approached Mandrick, who stood a head taller than she. “Take her to my husband,” saying the word as if it made her sick, “and tell him that she broke into my private room and accosted me without provoke. Tell him that he needs to deal with this brat. She is his responsibility.”
“What about Clavelle? You know…the man hiding behind the bed?” Lyra smirked at Jessibel. “Let me guess. He lost his way to the guest room, and in your famously kind-hearted manner, you gave him access to your bed for the evening?”
The queen stared at Lyra, her eyes smoldering with anger.
Lyra shared a sly grin. “I bet that wasn’t all you gave him access to.”
The queen lunged at Lyra, but Mandrick grabbed her, the big man holding the squirming woman firmly.
“Get her out of here,” Mandrick commanded to the other two guards. “You best take her to Tallinor and let him deal with her.”
Lyra’s gaze met Mandrick’s and the man gave her a small nod. One of the guards took her by the arm and led her toward the door as Lyra glanced back at the queen to find the woman’s face a thundercloud.
“I’ll get you for this, you little brat!”
When Lyra cleared the doorway and turned down the corridor, a satisfied smile spread across her face.
King Tallinor appeared weary, even beyond the fact that it was the middle of the night. Streaks of gray highlighted his brown hair and painted his goatee, a badge earned from carrying the weight of a nation. He stared at Lyra in grim silence as the guards bowed and exited the Throne Room, their departure punctuated by the thud of the door echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Only then, did the man release a sigh.
“Why must you always play the rogue, Lyra?”
“Why?” She gestured toward the door. “That woman is why. I hate her. She’s mean to Tiri and treats me like I’m some street urchin. Even worse, Jessibel disrespects you.” She took a step closer, holding her open palms before her. “I thought to hurt her pride by catching her in the act.”
Tallinor sighed again. “After three years of you two living in the same house, you still can’t get along. Acts such as this won’t help. Instead, you’ll just provoke her.”
“She’s your wife. Don’t you care?” Lyra clenched her fists, her knuckles going white. “If she even tries to keep her trysts a secret, the effort is pathetic. I always believed that marriage meant more than that…two people pledging themselves to one another forever, not merely when it suits their needs.”
Tallinor rubbed his eyes and dragged his hand down his face. “My wi
fe is…complicated. In fact, our situation is not…typical.”
She snorted. “I sure hope not.”
He stepped onto the dais and collapsed into his throne. “I once had the love of my life. Our relationship was different. She was everything I wanted, and she made my heart whole. Losing her felt like losing a limb, a part of myself that would never grow back. After Tirialle’s mother died, I had no interest in pursuing another woman.” He stared into the air, seeing something Lyra could not, as if dreaming while awake. “But even with Lorialle gone, I still had Tiri. In many ways, devoting myself to my daughter was the means to mending my heart.”
His bemused look shifted to sadness, his tone becoming somber. “However, the glories of power come with a price, and I was forced to marry again for the good of Kalimar. By making Jessibel my wife, I strengthened Kalimar’s relationship with Vinacci and expanded our borders in a single stroke. Through Jessibel’s brother, the Duke of Yarth, the region shifted from Vinacci lands to Kalimar as part of our marriage pact.”
“So you married your first wife for love, but you got stuck with this other minx for the good of Kalimar?”
Tallinor frowned. “Be considerate, Lyra. Please.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, seeking solace. When his eyes opened again, Lyra saw sadness within them. “She wasn’t always this way, you know. I believe she loved me at the beginning, or tried to, but I couldn’t find love in my heart for her. Once she became pregnant with Donte, we stopped…sleeping in the same bed. My lack of affection for her grew into a gap between us, one that widened into a chasm after Donte’s…incident.”
“What happened to him, anyway? I have tried asking others, but they refuse to tell me and instead change the subject.”
“During Donte’s tenth summer, I convinced Jess to let me take him on a hunting trip.” Tallinor sighed. “It’s been a tradition between father and son in my family for generations. A tradition that has likely now become extinct.”
Rogue Legacy: The Secret History of Issalia Page 15