by M. L. Greye
“Why don’t you kill him?” He asked quietly. With her speed she could. All she had to do was have someone push Pite in the water and she could destroy him. She’d be away from the camp too fast for anyone to notice – to follow after her.
Fiona was silent for a while. Declan waited. Then, she whispered, “I have nowhere else to go. My mother and brother are dead.”
He grimaced. “Literally anywhere else would be better than here.”
“But he isn’t anywhere else,” she said softly. “I stay because of him.”
“Because you love him?” Declan frowned.
“Because I love him.”
Rand. Fiona loved Rand. She chose to endure this place just to be near the man she loved.
She was nothing like Steffie. Fiona sacrificed daily for him. To choose to live in this miserable camp day after day was an enormous sacrifice. Fiona was strong and brave and honorable. She didn’t deserve to be stuck here when she could escape. No one did.
Declan leaned forward over his crossed legs, planting his elbows on his knees. No one deserved this life. That included himself. Fiona stayed for the same reason he did. For Rand. They refused to leave him behind. Well, perhaps it was time to figure out how to bring him along.
He released his breath in a rush and ran his hands through his hair. “Alright. Let’s find a way to free him for you.”
Fiona snorted and pushed herself up to sit on her furs. “It cannot be done. He has eight Mains. Did you know that?”
“I know.” Declan nodded.
Her brow furrowed. “He only knows of Simon. He was blindfolded for the other seven, so he couldn’t discover their identities. So he would never be able to escape.” She paused, running one hand over the fur beneath her. “It cannot be done.”
“Maybe not alone…” Declan let his voice trail off.
“A joint effort.” She frowned at him. “You’d do that? Attempt that for him?”
He let out a short laugh. “I’d be doing it for me, too, but yes, I’d do it for him.”
She watched him for a moment. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are qippos after all.”
“You’re family, too, Fiona,” Declan admitted quietly. “I’d be doing it for you as well.”
“We’ll most likely be killed.” She dropped back down onto her furs to stare upward.
Declan let out a short laugh. “Probably.”
Her mouth curved into a wicked grin, reminding Declan of the smile he’d crafted for himself during his months in this camp – the face he wore to hide his soul. The face of a Stolen. “May the sun shine upon us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
They’d planned it all out. It’d taken weeks and weeks, but the time had given them valuable insight. As summer had faded into autumn and then into winter, they’d paid closer attention to the habits of each of their Mains – logged away the hours the Back Rubes were most vulnerable. They’d recorded the routines of each and every Back Rube in the camp, as well as who was friends with whom. They’d scoured every inch of the camp to discover all vantage points – where they would be hidden and where they’d be seen. Finally, they’d plotted the best rendezvous place should they become separated.
It all came down to tomorrow.
Rand, Fiona, and Declan.
Another reason why it’d taken months to get to this point was just waiting for each of them to be in good shape. At the moment, all three were in adequate health – not too battered compared to most days. Who knew when they’d get another chance like this? Tomorrow it was.
The three of them were all sitting on the edge of the river – the side opposite to the camp. They were facing it in all its drab, depressing splendor. Here, no Back Rubes or any of the other Stolen were within hearing distance of them. The river muffled their words.
No one really ever crossed the river, but they did. Often. Especially within the last few weeks. They wanted the Back Rubes to get used to seeing them there – so they’d not suspect their scheming.
“Take it in boys,” Fiona drawled. “This time tomorrow we’ll be miles away.”
“Or dead.” Declan grunted.
They should have been freezing – after traversing an icy river and sitting out in the snow. But Rand had his trick he’d learned last winter. He’d wrapped them in an orb of warm air – a tight, contained bubble of it.
Rand flashed his teeth. “Or worse.”
He was right. There were things worse than death in this camp. If they failed tomorrow … the Back Rubes would delight in punishing them. Repeatedly. For possibly years.
“I’ll take my chances,” Declan said after a moment. “I’ve stayed here long enough.”
It’d been more than a year now. A year of enduring and punishing and killing and beating. A year that should have made him go mad. A year that likely had crafted him into an entirely different man than the one he’d been when first taken.
“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get home?” Rand asked softly, his eyes on the camp in front of them. It was the first time any of them had brought up such a question. None of them had wanted to jinx escaping. None of them wanted to hope.
“I have no home,” Fiona replied, her voice low. “I think I’ll become a mercenary.”
“What?” Rand’s head whipped around.
She smirked. “I will raise an army of Blues like me, and we will topple kingdoms.”
The Gray stared at her, and Declan laughed. “I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.”
“What of you?” She turned to him, not even bothering to refute his comment. “What will you do?”
“I want to see my parents again,” he told them. He did. He missed them. He tried to recall their faces, but the face that popped into his head was Emry’s. Her silver eyes gleaming. A playful smile on her full lips. After his parents … there was someone else he wanted to find once he was free. “And hopefully the girl of my dreams.”
Fiona blinked. “I didn’t know you had someone.”
“That would explain why you’ve never indulged in a fresh-faced,” Rand remarked.
That wasn’t the only reason, but Declan shrugged and replied honestly, “I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. She might be married to someone else by now.”
“A year isn’t that long,” Fiona said, turning to look at the river. “Well, not for those living free.”
He didn’t feel like explaining it’d been much longer than a year since he’d last seen Emry in person, so he just nodded. He and his friends stared at the flowing water a few minutes longer before Fiona pushed herself to her feet.
“I need sleep. Until tomorrow, boys,” she told them.
“It’s until the next,” Rand rolled his eyes. “Not until tomorrow.”
She grunted. “Your phrases matter not.”
“Sleep well.” Declan smiled.
Declan watched her walk to the river and disappear beneath its surface. As in literally drop beneath it – like she’d stepped into deep water rather than just an inch of it. She emerged a second later on the opposite side. Glancing at Rand, she waved her hand down her body, expectantly. He sighed and stretched out his own hand. Fiona looked like she was inside a whirlwind for a minute. Then it stopped. She dipped her head in thanks and headed off.
Rand chuckled to himself. “I’m going to marry that woman.”
“I hope you do,” Declan said. “Maybe you could expand her band of mercenaries to include Grays.”
His friend’s smile faded as he glanced down at his hands. They were between his raised knees, his forearms resting on top – the same position as Declan. “I’ve never told her my real name.”
Declan raised a brow. “Rand isn’t your name?”
“Not really.” He shook his head and winced.
“What is it?”
He sucked in a breath, as if debating to tell him. But then, he said, “My name is Ryde Randor.”
“I take it Rand is short for your actual last name?” The Back Rubes had a th
ing for calling their slaves by their surnames.
Rand eyed him warily. “It is.”
“Why haven’t you told Fiona yet?” Declan frowned. “A name’s not going to scare her off.”
The Gray stared, startled for some reason. But all he said was, “I’ll tell her if we survive tomorrow.”
Declan nodded and glanced out at the camp. The sun had almost set, casting most of the camp into shadows. “What are you going to do with yourself, Rand? Or should I call you Ryde?”
“Rand will do.” He grunted. “I’m going to do exactly what I’ve been planning since the day Steffie died. I’m going to make the people who put us here pay. I’m going to make them regret ever sending me here. I’m going to make them beg on their knees for their lives.”
“Aren’t we planning on killing the Back Rubes tomorrow?” Declan let out a short laugh.
“I’m not talking about the Back Rubes.” He snorted. “I plan on destroying a king.”
“You’re going to kill a king?” Declan asked incredulously.
“And probably half his court,” Rand retorted. “Whoever supported the enslaving of The Stolen. Then, I’ll savor their pleas for mercy – pleas to their new king. I’ll ignore them all and deliver justice instead. They’ll pay for each and every drop of blood spilt. Every life lost. All of it.”
Rand glared out at the camp. Declan watched him silently. So it was revenge that Rand wanted. Some way to right the countless wrongs he’d witnessed. He planned on taking down a king and his court. Most likely Quirl, since this was where the camp was – where Rand himself was from.
The Quirl king knew of The Stolen. Rand apparently planned to take his throne from him. Anyone else and Declan might have scoffed, but Rand was powerful. If anyone could do it, Rand could.
A large portion of Declan sympathized with him. It was no secret Declan despised royalty of any kind. Yet, Declan still remembered his father’s words throughout his childhood. Revenge never brought lasting happiness. Still, Declan wished Rand well. After being a prisoner for so long, he deserved to make some choices of his own.
“May you succeed in your endeavors,” Declan said.
Rand laughed darkly and replied, “Or die trying.”
:::::
It had snowed the night before, leaving the world under a sheet of white. Just in time for Night’s Crown. Emry’s favorite night of the year had returned, and she was celebrating it in her usual way. By dancing.
Her father had thrown a lovely ball in the palace’s ballroom. Naturally. In honor of Night’s Crown, a million balls of light crafted by Orange servants floated above her head. The hired musicians were the best in Breccan, filling the ballroom and the adjoining balcony with boisterous tunes.
Emry danced from one partner to the next. Tonight, for Night’s Crown, the dancing took place in both the ballroom and balcony. The doors were left open so that revelers could flow outside under the stars and the moon. Or, they could stay inside, for the less adventurous. As usual, the party was lovely.
Her gown was phenomenal. Her hair was piled up on top of her head with the perfect array of loose curls dangling to frame her face. She felt confident and slender and beautiful. She’d danced with Piran twice, Freddick once, her father once, and countless other faces. They’d all smiled and complimented her. Yet, it all felt a bit empty.
Emry couldn’t explain it, but she kept feeling like she was on the edge of her seat. In some sort of anticipation. The emotion didn’t make sense. This was it as far as the celebrating for the night went.
There would be plenty of food and dancing that would go until dawn. But that was it. There wasn’t going to be some grand reveal.
She tried to shake the feeling for hours, but it wouldn’t go away. In fact, it kept building – until Emry jumped at every noise or movement. The feeling ended up chasing her to bed early. It was still after midnight but long before dawn.
Even as she lay in bed, she couldn’t rid herself of whatever nervous energy filled her. When she finally drifted off to sleep, it still hadn’t ebbed.
:::::
Declan stood on the edge of a moonlit pond. It was a pond he’d visited in his dreams more than once but had seen in person for the first time last week. He watched the stillness of the water and the swirling mist above it. Snow drifts surrounded it – surrounded him. The pond should have been frozen over. There must have been some natural hot spring beneath its surface.
“What are you looking at?”
He grinned at her voice and turned around. “You.”
Emry stood before him in a gown of white. The dress was in Enlennd style with a high waist and straight, long skirts. Her neckline was heart-shaped, and her long sleeves came to her wrists. She looked like freshly fallen snow.
At his remark, though, she grunted. “Now you are.”
“It’s good to see you again,” he replied.
She moved up beside him and tilted her chin up towards the moon, closing her eyes. “I love Night’s Crown.”
“Me too,” he admitted absently. His focus was on memorizing the lines of her face – the curve of her lips.
“It’s my favorite night of the year.”
“Is it coming soon?” Declan frowned. He had no concept of which night of the year it was. He only knew how to count the days.
She turned in surprise. “Dec, it is Night’s Crown. Tonight is Night’s Crown.”
“Tonight?” He blurted. Of all the night’s they could have chosen … He paused, watching the way the moonlight reflected on Emry’s eyes. On impulse, he asked, “Will you dance with me?”
“Right now?” She blinked.
“It is Night’s Crown,” he quipped.
Emry tossed a quick glance over the pond. “There’s no music.”
“I don’t need any.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him – into position for an Anexian waltz. He took a few steps, twisting her around with him.
She let out a short laugh. “Are you counting in your head to keep the rhythm?”
He snorted. “I don’t need to count.”
They twirled around a few more times on the pond’s bank before Declan slowed, staring down at her. His expression must have changed because she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Absolutely nothing. He smiled. “Your eyes are glowing again.”
Emry flinched. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to change them.”
“Why would you be sorry for having the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen?” Declan blinked.
“I don’t scare you?” She breathed.
Declan loosed a bark of laughter and shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do that would scare me, Emry.”
She bit the tip of her tongue. There was such adorable uncertainty on her face that he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her against him, and pressed his lips to hers.
He pulled her against him, licking his tongue along the inside of her lower lip. She moaned and parted her mouth open. Declan deepened their kiss. He reached his left hand up from her back to cradle one side of her face.
This was Emry. Here and now. His Emry. The Emry he’d saved. The Emry who had kept him sane. The Emry he loved.
He loved her. He loved Emry. Emry was–
Emry was a dream.
Declan yanked back, breathless and panting. His heart racing. Emry gazed up at him, and he swore he saw his own love reflected in her gaze. He moaned and leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re a vision, Emry.”
“Dec,” she whispered – her hands trembling where they grasped his shirt. “Dec, I think I love you.”
“Oh, Emry.” He lifted his hands to cradle her face once more and grinned. “I know I love you.”
She stepped back, just barely out of his grasp. He frowned, but before he could reach for her again, she gave him a sad smile. “Then come find me.”
“How?” He would if he knew where to look.
“Ask your father. He knows where I am.”
In the darkness he could make out a vague, familiar shape. He frowned as he heard Rand say, “You almost overslept, qippo.”
“I wasn’t ready to wake up,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his hands.
Rand extended his hand for Declan – to help pull him up. “Well, here’s to one day being able to sleep in again.”
Declan clasped wrists with him. It was time. “Let’s make them beg.”
BOOK THREE:
PAIRS
CHAPTER FORTY
It took Declan fifteen minutes to dress in his black Quirl leathers. He now owned a full set – pants, shirt, boots, and straps for blades. The straps took the longest to put on, intricately wrapping across his chest and back. They’d also been his most recent reward. Next would have been the blades to fill them – had he stayed in the camp.
Once dressed, Rand offered him two blades – his two extras. Tonight, Declan would be using them while Rand wielded his two favorites. Rand didn’t have any more for Fiona, but she hadn’t wanted blades tonight anyway. She’d said a staff was all she’d need.
Declan took the blades from Rand and slipped them into their designated slots on his back. Rand didn’t have sheaths for them, so they’d have to go naked. No matter. They wouldn’t be strapped to his back for long.
Rand gave him a once over and yanked one of his blades from his back. “Should I go first or you?”
“I thought we’d just use our own.” He grunted.
“So did I, but then you put your blades away, and I thought maybe you wanted me to do the honors.” Rand grinned.
“I can cut my own hair.” Declan rolled his eyes and retrieved one of the blades from his own back. Honestly, he’d forgotten he and Rand had decided to chop off their hair and beards. The idea was that changing their appearances might briefly confuse some of the Back Rubes.
He and Rand took handfuls of their too long hair and slid the blades through as close to their skulls as they could manage. They both squeezed into Declan’s bathing room for the mirror. Neither cared to make sure their hair was evenly cut. They just focused on making it short. Shoulder-length hair was fashionable in Quirl and for married men in Anexia. Yet, as Declan rid himself of his hair, he vowed to never grow it past his ears ever again.