ix
“What is this place?” I twisted in my seat, my breath steaming the cool glass as the scenery outside changed, morphing into something more savage and bleak than the landscapes we’d left behind.
Across from me, on the other side of the elaborate spread of warm muffins and fresh jams, juices and brewed teas, sliced berries and stewed meats, I saw Brook shake her head, confusion evident as she held a biscuit halfway to her mouth. She turned to stare out too. I knew she hadn’t slept, that she’d stayed out of our sleeping car until the early hours of the morning. Even if I hadn’t been awake, I would’ve known from the dark smudges beneath her eyes.
“It’s the Scablands.” Zafir’s voice was flat when he answered.
I stared off into the distance, to where scrubby gray shrubs sprang up from the dry black earth, but only here and there, making them look like a pox on the landscape rather than a part of the scenery. I saw nothing that suggested life out there would be easy—no water, no trees, and no vegetation, save the spare, sticklike bushes. There were no roads in sight. No signs of civilization whatsoever.
As I contemplated the name, the Scablands, I wondered what I’d expected.
The word “wasteland” came to mind, but to me, wasteland conjured images of flat, desertlike barrenness. And this was anything but flat. I took in the jagged peaks, which seemed to force their way up from the ground, like fat, broken tree trunks, black and dead and fossilized. They were tall and packed together, creating a mountainous forest that looked nothing less than intimidating. Deadly, even.
I guess what I really hadn’t expected was for the train lines to run so close to this remote area.
“Where are all the people?” My breath fogged the window even more.
“There are settlement camps farther east, but building isn’t permitted this close to the railways,” Zafir explained patiently. He poured steaming black coffee into his cup and drank without waiting for it to cool.
I glanced at Brook, and was certain she was just as appalled as I was at the idea of living all the way out here, so close to the northern border, segregated from society. “Why not?”
“The purpose of being sent to the Scablands is to live in isolation.”
“What about supplies?” I was surprised that I’d never posed these questions before, that I’d never pondered the living conditions of the criminals who were no longer permitted to live in Ludanian society. I wondered what else I’d neglected to consider. What other populations I’d ignored.
Zafir didn’t seem to share my concerns. “Being sent to the Scablands is a punishment, not a reward. Everything is meant to be more difficult, including commerce. They trade the same way everyone else does, they just have to travel farther and through more perilous terrain.”
I thought about that as I glanced out at the colorless landscape, feeling something sick twist my gut. “What about the children? There are children, aren’t there? How are their needs met? How are they housed? Schooled? What about medical care? They’re not all convicts, Zafir.” I looked up at him earnestly, wanting him to allay my worries, but knowing he wouldn’t lie simply to appease me.
“Your Majesty,” he started, and my stomach sank over what might follow. He sighed, and I could feel his patience slipping. “These are lawbreakers, and if they’re not, if they were simply born to the parents of criminals, then it’s their choice to remain here. There’s no law that states they have to stay once they reach the age of consent. Don’t feel sorry for them; this is the life they’ve chosen . . . either by actions or by will.”
I didn’t like his answer, but I knew he was right. There had to be a place to send those who’d committed crimes. There had to be consequences and punishments, especially in light of the fact that I’d abolished the gallows. Still, I worried about those who lived out here. They were still my people, still citizens of Ludania.
Aron and Sebastian joined us then, and I had to bite my lip over the eager expression on Sebastian’s face. His eyes lit up when they fell on Brooklynn, even though, as always, she seemed oblivious to the stable master’s attentions.
“The horses are restless,” Sebastian announced, managing to force his gaze away from Brook to address Zafir. “Too much time cooped up in the livestock compartments.”
Aron scooted in next to Brook and reached for a hot biscuit that had tendrils of steam still rising from it. He tore it open and scooped a hefty portion of peach jam into it before stuffing the entire thing into his mouth.
Beside him, I saw Brook’s gaze shift sideways to watch him, her lip curling in disgust, as she picked listlessly at her own food.
“We can’t stop here,” she stated, turning to Sebastian who stood at attention, his shoulders back as if he were one of her soldiers. It was her call, though. Zafir was there only to protect me. Brook was the one in charge of the army that escorted us. “We’re too close to the Scablands,” she said, as if she hadn’t just learned this bit of information herself. “We can let them off to stretch their legs at the next major depot . . . after we leave this territory.”
Aron snorted, and Brook’s gaze shot to him. “What? I suppose you have a better idea.”
“I jus’ don’ . . . ,” Aron started, but crumbs spewed from his mouth, spraying the table in front of him. He reached for Brook’s cup and took a swig, ignoring her scathing glare. When he finally swallowed, choking down the rest of the biscuit in a huge gulp, he tried again. “I just don’t see how you’re going to get that many horses off, and then back on again, during a single stop. Do you really think the engineer is just going to hold the train for you? For Charlie definitely, but not for you, Brook.”
Brook smirked at him, her jaw set, her eyes glinting like hard steel. “Is that a challenge? Because I don’t need Charlie’s help on this. You just watch. I bet I can get him to stop and wait . . . without mention of our queen here.”
“Oh, you’re on.” Aron laughed, slapping Brooklynn on the shoulder. “Can I come with you when you ask him? I gotta see this.”
Five hours later we were standing on a wooden platform above the rails. It took several moments to regain my land legs, to adjust to the firmness of the motionless ground beneath me, but it felt good. Normal. Steady.
Several cars down from us, I could already see Sebastian supervising as the horses were unloaded, their hooves beating against the makeshift gangway they navigated, and I wondered how long the timbers would bear the animals’ weight. Sebastian didn’t seem to share my concerns over its sturdiness, he seemed more worried over the horses’ well-being as he handed them off to awaiting soldiers two at a time to be walked about the unpaved streets.
I shuddered, pretending my chill was a result of the weather, rather than the horses we’d soon be riding in place of the train. The idea of mounting the beasts shot cold terror straight to my heart.
Still, it was colder out here than I’d anticipated, and although I couldn’t actually see my breath, I could feel it crystalizing within my chest, becoming something denser than normal air, harder to expel. I wondered how long until there’d be ice on the ground. Until we saw the first flakes of snow.
“It’s only going to get worse,” Zafir stated. “The farther north we travel, the closer to winter we’ll get.”
I frowned at the guard’s upside-down logic as I wrapped my arms around myself, understanding his meaning nonetheless. The summit was being held in the mountainous region of Caldera, Queen Neva’s land. I’d been warned the climate could be inhospitable.
I lifted my already icy fingers to my lips and blew on them.
“Do you want me to send for your coat?” Zafir asked, always attentive.
“I’m fine, Zafir.” And when I saw that he didn’t look convinced, I added, “Really.”
I glanced around at the tiny town nestled in the jagged hills, just inside the northern border of Ludania. Technically, we were still in Scabland territory, and it still had that same sharp-edged feel to it, as if the town itself had been chi
seled from the rocky terrain. Everything, other than the sidewalk we stood on, seemed to be crafted from some sort of stone slab or brick. I saw slate and granite and shale.
The overall effect was as chilling as the wind that whipped through the nearly uninhabited streets. The only sign of life came from the chimneys on every roof: Smoke rose from nearly all of them.
I wondered if this was what Brooklynn had in mind when she’d said we would stop at the next major depot, but I knew it wasn’t. The next depot was more than three hours away, and Sebastian’s complaints for the horses had grown more uncompromising with each minute that had passed.
I turned to see Brook coming out of the lead car, the train’s engine, accompanied by a man wearing a black wool suit with polished brass buttons. Golden fringe hung from his shoulders. The engineer, I assumed. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he gazed adoringly at Brooklynn on the step above him. She gingerly laid her hand in his, allowing him help her down the steel steps.
Aron rolled his eyes as he stood on the walkway, watching them. I could practically read his thoughts, which I was sure must mirror my own: as if Brook needed the man’s help. She was about as helpless as a full-grown tigress.
I bit my lip as she led the engineer in our direction, making it look too much like she’d tethered him to a leash. He didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, quite the opposite. If the unflinching grin he wore was any indicator, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
“Are you sure it’s no inconvenience?” I heard Brooklynn coo in a voice that sounded nothing like her usual commanding tone. “I wouldn’t want to put you too far behind schedule.” Her hand, which was on his forearm now, slid lower, until her fingertips brushed the bare skin at his wrist.
His white moustache was stark against his cheeks as they grew redder than the flowers in the palace gardens. His stout chest puffed up as he drew in his belly and held it there. “No bother at all, young lady,” he purred, although not nearly as demurely as Brooklynn had. “You just let me know when your party’s set to go. I don’t mind waitin’ a bit.”
Aron’s eyes rolled so hard I thought they might actually pop out of his head.
Brook flashed a meaningful grin at him as the engineer strolled away, a boyish skip in his step.
“I don’t believe it. Are you sure you didn’t drug him or something?” Aron scoffed at her.
“I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.” She didn’t need to remind any of them that part of her work with the underground rebellion had been to convince the men of Sabara’s army to give up information. And she’d rarely had to use force.
Aron shook his head, and I wondered if he was really so unaware of Brook’s appeal. If growing up with her, the way I had, had somehow made him immune. “I’m gonna see if Sebastian needs help. He looks like he has his hands full.”
I glanced over again and saw fleeting glimpses of Sebastian’s red bandana between hindquarters and muzzles and the long, muscled legs of the horses. He looked harried and frustrated, and shouted orders to the men who barely paid him any attention. He’d clearly not mastered the commanding presence of his position.
I felt like that sometimes. Like I hadn’t quite found my voice.
Or rather, like a queen with two voices . . . neither of us strong enough to rule.
As if listening to my thoughts, I heard her—Sabara—unfurling within me. Together we can do it. Together, we’re invincible.
I squeezed my fists, searching for that inner quiet that seemed harder and harder to find. I didn’t want to hear her. I didn’t want to listen to her toxic oaths.
“Your Majesty?”
I jolted, turning to face Zafir. The unease in his expression told me I’d missed something. “What?”
“Do you—?”
I blinked. “Do I what?”
“Do you want me to get that coat now?”
I looked down at myself, shivering and clutching my arms. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t tell him it wasn’t the chill that had gotten to me.
It was her.
Instead, I nodded, and he signaled to someone I couldn’t see. “Stay close to me,” he instructed as he pushed me to start walking. “Let’s see what there is out here.”
brooklynn
The hairs on the back of Brook’s neck prickled and she glanced once more over her shoulder.
Beneath her, the horse continued to thrash, tossing his head up and down, fighting the metal bit stretched between his lips. But Brook didn’t think it was the bit that was bothering him.
She felt exactly the way her way horse did. Spooked.
She tugged the reins, cautioning the animal to settle down. He stomped his feet in reply, prancing anxiously and setting her teeth on edge.
“Quit it,” she hissed as she reached down to swat at his neck. She didn’t need his alarm contributing to her uneasiness.
Finally he settled, but she couldn’t say the same about herself as her heart quickened. She suddenly wished that she’d followed her own orders and stayed closer to town, that she hadn’t wandered so far from the train station . . . and from the safety of her men. She’d only meant to be a few minutes, half an hour at the most, as she searched for a better vantage point from which to see how far the Scablands stretched.
She pulled one rein sharply, demanding the horse turn in a full circle, allowing her a 360-degree view of the terrain. There wasn’t much to see: some buildings in the valley below her, including the train depot, and at her back, the threshold of a dense, shadowy forest that stretched as far as she could see. On all sides were rocks and stones and black dirt.
The weather up here was even harsher than it had been down at the station, but despite the cutting wind that slashed at her face, a thin layer of sweat prickled Brooklynn’s skin. She winced, shielding her eyes from the gusts as she tried to urge her mount forward. She thought she’d get a better view on the other side of the rocky hillside, but the animal dug in, refusing to go any closer.
Finally, she dismounted, dropping the reins and inching closer to the bluff.
She eased forward, balancing carefully as she reached the drop-off. It wasn’t too sheer, but the gravel beneath her feet was loose, unstable. She crouched low, surveying everything around her from this new position. Now wasn’t the time to second-guess her instincts, and at the moment those instincts were screaming at her, warning that something was off.
She was only planning to take a few tentative steps down the embankment, but the moment her boots hit the gravel, she felt the pebbles beneath them shift and slide. Her stomach lurched as she reached out, trying to stop herself by clawing at the scraggy clumps of grass and shrubbery. All she managed to do was to rip the skin from her palms, abrading them until they were raw and bleeding. As she slid, she leaned as far back as she could, trying to keep from rolling headfirst all the way down. The last thing she needed was to break her neck on a routine scouting mission.
It wasn’t until she slammed, feetfirst, into a thick stand of thorned bushes, that she realized that the sounds she’d heard—the grunts and the curses—had been coming from her.
“Damn,” she swore again when she glanced down and saw the tear in her pant leg. She collapsed backward on the solid ground with relief. She dug out a ledge for her heels to make sure she didn’t slide any farther, then sat up, pulling a twig from her hair. Her hands were killing her. She lifted them so she could examine the dirt-caked scrapes that ran across both palms.
And that was when she heard it. The train . . .
. . . pulling away from the station.
x
Out in the streets, the wind had picked up. Ignoring my protests, Zafir had sent someone back inside the train for my cloak, and even now, as I stood before the stone hearth inside the tavern, warming my cold hands in front of the blazing fire, I was grateful for the shelter it provided. The hood concealed my hair and most of my face, making me feel like I was wearing a disguise, although Zafir’s presence still drew un
welcome notice wherever we went.
It was hard to ignore a giant.
He’d left me alone for only a moment, casting cautionary glares at everyone within spitting distance as he went to get me some tea. Under normal circumstances Zafir wouldn’t wait on me, but I was still shivering, and my teeth clattered noisily, making it nearly impossible to speak.
Outside in the streets, beyond the tavern’s walls, I could no longer hear the rumble of hooves, and I knew Sebastian and the others had headed just outside of town, giving the horses room to run before reloading them back onto the train for the remainder of our journey.
Inside the tavern, however, there were the sounds of dishes being slammed against the long wood-planked tables, mingled with raucous laughter and loud voices. A drunken lot in one far corner warbled a bawdy tune about a farmer’s daughter. Not one of the crooners seemed aware of me . . . or my giant.
Along with the smell of burning wood, I inhaled the scents of tobacco and rubbed meats and candle wax as I took in the eclectic furnishings and decor. Black wax dripped onto the tables and floors, creating dark pools beneath the rusty chandeliers overhead. This was the kind of place a girl, one who wasn’t a queen, could easily get lost.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t so lucky. I spotted the periodicals, first one and then another, and then an entire stack of them, scattered across the nearby tables. When the front door opened, one of them was carried on the breeze that rushed in, and it landed near my feet.
I stooped down, letting my cloak fall around my face as I studied it. I didn’t need to, of course. I’d already seen this particular bit of news. I’d already seen this image.
I stepped closer to the fire, crumpling the paper into a tight ball and I tossed it in. I stood there, watching it disintegrate into a thousand pieces of ash, until nothing remained.
And then I heard a sound that seemed compellingly familiar, something I was certain I should recognize. I cocked my head, waiting for it again. It seemed to have vanished, the noise, evaporating into the din of the alehouse around me.
The Essence Page 10