by Leigh Kelsey
“Indira,” he rasped as he made his shaky way across the pale, arched stones, invoking the Healer, saint of rest and recovery. “I need your help.”
He didn’t expect an answer; the saints weren’t active in their assistance after all, but they watched from afar. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a reply.
“Watch it,” a woman snapped when Kheir tumbled off the other end of the bridge, miraculously making it across to a road surrounded by tall grey-brick buildings and fragrant trees. He just managed to twist himself away so he didn’t fall on the dark-haired woman glaring at him. Instead, he slammed into the merciless ground, the impact jolting every pain in his body into agony until he choked on a sound of pain.
“Ev, be kind,” a soft male voice chided. “Are you alright?”
It took Kheir a moment to realise the man was talking to him, but by this point, speech was beyond him. He only groaned, and inhaled sharply as a man with red hair threaded with luminous purple knelt in front of him, his features sharp and elegant. Fae, he thought, like himself, but he didn’t see pointed ears. The man reached for him to help him back to his feet, accidentally brushing Kheir’s injured side, and he bit down on a scream, muffling it.
“Fuck,” the man breathed, paling beneath his freckles—noticing the blood, smelling it probably. “You need help.”
Kheir laughed, a sharp burst of sound. He knew damn well he needed help, but he had no safe place to seek it. “I need … the gate.”
He gestured uselessly at the vast gate to their right, where Maia had told him to go. He knew he’d never make it in this pitiful state. He’d barely made it across the bridge—the gate was six times that distance.
The man’s jade green eyes flicked from the gate back to him and narrowed in understanding. But how could he understand? Had word spread of Kheir’s escape so soon? His stomach whirled like a storm, cramping hard. The guards would already be scouring the streets for him. He’d be lucky to survive to nightfall; if his injuries didn’t kill him, Ismene would.
“It’s alright,” the man soothed, blocking out the bright glare of the sun as he leaned closer. “There’s somewhere we can take you, a safe place. But it’s too far for you to go when you’re hurt.”
“There’s a Hall of Indira not too far from here,” the woman Kheir had almost knocked down said, sounding surly about the offer. “Come on, get up, we’ll take you there.”
“Thank you,” Kheir rasped as she reached for him, her hands surprisingly gentle given her prickly countenance. They were careful of his injury, but she didn’t know about the bruises and cuts covering the rest of him courtesy of the queen’s hunter. She accidentally pressed on a cut that sent pain tearing right to Kheir’s side, somehow inflaming the bloody injury into an unbearable torture. The world went black in an instant.
When Kheir woke, his arms were flat at his sides in an unnatural position, and clean-smelling white sheets had been tucked suffocatingly tight around his chest. He might as well have been dressed for a coffin; he expected the wooden walls to be nailed shut around him at any moment. But when he cracked his sore eyes open, he found a bright, high-ceilinged hall with light slanting through tall windows and a row of beds stretching out on either side of him, only one other bed occupied. The whole place smelled like herbs and astringent—like healing—and it was as quiet as a morgue, at least until clothes shuffled to his right.
“It’s alright,” a soft voice said, drawing his eye to the wooden chair beside his bed and the striking man who reclined in it. Tall and slim, with an elfin, beautiful face and eyes such a rare shade of jade that Kheir had never seen any like them before. Red-purple hair spilled over the shoulder of his pale grey shirt, and leather-clad legs stretched out in front of him, the buckles on his boots suggesting they were expensive. For a moment, Kheir just stared.
“You … are uncommonly beautiful,” was all he could think to say.
A smile split the man’s face, making him even more stunning—painfully so. “You’re pretty handsome yourself.” But his smile slipped, worry shadowing his fine features. “Minus all the blood and grime. What happened?”
Kheir couldn’t tell this beautiful stranger the truth. Not when the palace guard and the Foxes were surely searching for him by now, combing every street. It was a saint’s blessing that none had checked this place.
“I was attacked,” he said, drawing on his skills as a courtier to lie smoothly.
His rescuer’s smile turned wry, jade eyes glittering as he leaned forward in his chair. “Attacked, and bleeding, and running for the city gate at the same time an enemy to the crown escaped the palace dungeons. Strange, that.”
The blood drained from Kheir’s face.
“I thought you were beastkind,” the beautiful man said, batting a strand of red hair from his face as he leant even closer, all but hanging off the chair as he watched Kheir intently. “We’ve been going missing for weeks, and the disappearances are getting worse. I thought someone had tried to take you, and you’d fought back. But then the alarms were raised, and the Foxes were on every damn street corner, demanding to know if anyone had seen a V’haivan man with copper wings, brown hair, and dark eyes. Rumours spread,” he added with a shrug. “And then the truth spread, among certain circles. Why are you an enemy to the crown?”
Kheir found he had no words. He only swallowed, and shook his head, a measly attempt at denial.
“I’ll go first,” the man said with a smile meant to set Kheir at ease, watching with something close to curiosity, edged with understanding. “I’m Jaromir Sintali, but my friends call me Jaro. When I was discovered seven years ago, I was indentured and assigned to work at the pillow rooms in the southside, in the palace quarter specifically. The lords and ladies like my delicate looks, or so I’m told,” he added, smiling even as Kheir’s face fell, his heart turning to stone. It was a barbaric act, indenturing anyone, let alone forcing them to work in brothels. No consent—there could never be any consent there.
He reached for Jaromir’s hand without even thinking, without considering that he might not want the touch of a stranger, might be half sick of strangers touching him. “I’m sorry,” Kheir said quietly, seriously. “It is not that way in V’haiv.”
“No, there you just hunted us all down and killed us,” Jaro replied, his words sharp but voice soft, as if he never raised it, as if he’d been … trained to be that soft. Kheir removed his touch, but couldn’t help himself and squeezed Jaro’s hand before he made himself let go.
“We did,” he agreed, not hiding from that sickening past. He’d be a coward and a shamefully bad prince if he refused to look V’haiv’s dark, ugly past in its eye. There could be no fixing those errors, no doing better for future generations, if he was willfully half-blind. “But no beastkind have been hunted in eighty three years, and many have been born, families have grown—and they now live peacefully. My dearest friend is beastkind,” he said, his heart hurting with longing. “She’s a winter fox.”
Jaromir’s expression didn’t change, but some of the tension left his eyes. “When I was indentured,” he went on, “my younger brother was separated from me. I don’t know where he was sent, only that he was taken out of the city, and no record has been found of him in seven years. He was twelve then, nineteen now.”
Kheir’s heart squeezed tight. He’d always been too soft, too sympathetic, but his parents had made him see it as strength, not weakness. That gentle heart would make him more than a good king, they told him—it would make him a great king.
“That’s why I’m an enemy to the crown; because they took my brother from me, and sent him chasm knows where, without me.”
Kheir watched Jaro’s face, noting the tiny shifts of feeling behind the mask of softness and civility. “Not for what they’ve done to you?” he asked with a frown.
Jaro shook his head, sighing and sitting back in his chair. “That’s all secondary.”
It shouldn’t be, Kheir nearly said, but it wasn’t his pl
ace. So instead he said, “My name is Crown Prince Kheir Sin Rizian. I came here—”
“Your middle name is Sin?” Jaro blurted, his eyes crinkled as if he couldn’t hold back that tiny hint of laughter. Kheir bet, with his masks removed, that laugh would be raucous. Loud enough to shake the saints’ world.
“A warning and a promise,” Kheir replied, giving Jaro a rakish grin. “In V’haivan it means shield.”
Jaromir’s lips twitched, his eyes alive for the first time. “Continue with your story.”
Kheir took a slow breath. “I came here to present an alliance to Queen Ismene. She didn’t agree with my plans, or my morals, and when I disagreed to back her plans to increase the slave caravans, she had her—she had someone try to control me, to manipulate me into agreeing.”
Jaro reared back, pulling on the ends of his sleeves in a nervous gesture. “Control you? How?”
Kheir didn’t want to say too much, but he sighed, and gave as much truth as he dared. “The woman who controlled me did so against her better judgement, and had as much choice in the matter as I was given. She was the one who helped me escape. Well … that implies I was any use at all in the venture, which I was not. I’m here, as free as I might be, because of her. I’d rather not tell you her secrets.”
Jaromir tilted his head, watching, weighing. The sun caught glimmers of pure ruby and amethyst in his hair, and Kheir found himself staring. He finally nodded. “I know who you mean. I’ve heard stories of the princess.”
Kheir glanced away. He’d betrayed her, no matter how careful he’d tried to be. He expelled a breath through gritted teeth, his honour like a dented shield. “She’s at risk. She set me free, and there can be no doubt that her aunt will punish her for it, if not kill her.” Although Kheir’s tactical mind told him Ismene wouldn’t dispose of her most valuable asset. What she’d put Maia through instead … it would be worse than death, perhaps.
If she allowed the bastard who’d tortured Kheir to touch Maia… Fierce, burning rage caught in his chest, not a wildfire but a chilling darkness, the blackness of a starless night.
Jaro dragged a hand through his hair, tugging on the roots slightly. “There’s nothing we can do for her. If she were a regular traitor, maybe, but the princess…”
“I know,” Kheir agreed, testing his body as he swung his legs off the bed. He felt steady, if not completely pain free. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Ev did most of the work. You might remember her as the woman who growled at you after you walked into her.”
Kheir laughed softly, remembering bared teeth, heavy boots, and a dark braid. “I do indeed.”
“She’s a good healer and an even better person. She’s just surly. Here, let me help you,” Jaro offered, jumping out of his seat and supporting Kheir’s back as he took an unsteady step.
“Why are you still here?” Kheir asked, and then winced. “I didn’t mean that to sound so rude.”
Jaro’s mouth twitched, his eyes wry. “I don’t mind rudeness. I’m used to it, with my friends. As for why I’m here... ” He sighed, casting a glance around the hall. “Like I said, I thought you were beastkind at first, which makes you one of my very extended family.” He laughed faintly, and Kheir smiled at the whispering sound. “And then I stayed out of curiosity, and because someone had to keep an eye on you. It’s not a good idea to use the gates out of the city right now; they’re being watched. I’ve got somewhere you can stay, though.”
“Not here?” Kheir asked, looking around at the hall as he took another, steadier step. Strange—off balance without the weight of his wings. But it was safer to keep them hidden for now. He hoped the rest of the emissaries had left the palace, were safe somewhere, but judging by how swayed Valleir had been, that was a slim hope.
“No, that’s not how our halls work,” Jaro explained, supporting him for another step. “We come here for as long as it takes us to heal and then move on. It’s a hospital more than anything.” Jaro squeezed Kheir’s arm.
The notion of it was confusing for Kheir, whose home had halls of Indira that welcomed people to stay for weeks, if not months. But as long as he had somewhere safe to lay low, that was all that mattered. “What do I owe you?” he asked. “For the help.”
Jaro frowned deeply, a flicker of offence in his gaze before he masked it. “Nothing.” He shook his head, his grip easy and careful as he helped Kheir cross the stone floor. “I know the Vassal Empire has a bad reputation, but we’re not all unfeeling. And besides,” he added with a sudden smile, “looking at your handsome face is payment enough.”
Kheir barked a laugh, surprised and charmed. “Well, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. Where’s this place you have for me? I should be able to make it there by myself.”
Jaro snorted. “Not in the Wolven Lord’s dark chasm. They’re looking for a man on his own, not two people. I’m coming with you.”
“You’re very insistent,” Kheir said, his mouth curving at the corners, warmth filling his chest. “But you’re right. I’d be safer with you. And no matter what you say, I do owe you, and I’ll find a way to repay you.”
Jaromir rolled his eyes. “I told you, you owe me nothing. I’m used to picking up waifs and strays; you’re no different, crown prince or not.”
Kheir liked that, a great deal. “Then lead the way, Jaromir.”
Kheir would hide out in this place Jaro had for him, and think of a way to save Maia before her aunt could do grievous damage. However difficult, he couldn’t just leave Maia to her fate. She’d risked everything to get him out of that cell, and she’d been … kind and funny. There was a beautiful soul withering under all the darkness the court and crown suffocated her in, and Kheir would be damned if he left her there.
Chapter Seventeen
Run, Maia screamed at herself, as if her consciousness was locked away in a deep chamber of her own self by some wicked form of magic. But there was no magic at play here, only the power called fear. It was every bit as effective as a curse, keeping her shaking and weak as Etziel led her back into the gleaming palace and through the bright, golden halls to her aunt’s personal sitting room. Maia passed the marble drakes on the grand staircase and sent a pleading glance their way, as if they’d leap to life and defend her. But no one was coming to her rescue, not even her best friend. Maia was trapped—doomed.
Even knowing she was about to be named a traitor the second her aunt heard that Kheir had escaped, Maia couldn’t get her trembling body to fight, couldn’t get her shell of a body to do anything but follow Etziel’s guiding push towards her aunt’s private rooms. Memories played on a loop, her own screams echoing in her ears, and her hand shook so hard in Etziel’s grip that the red beads dangling from her belt clacked together in a desperate percussion.
She met the eyes of every guard she passed, but they were loyal to Ismene, every one of them unfaltering. They didn’t even meet her eyes as she was led, clearly terrified, shaking like a leaf in a storm, past them and into the warm, cloyingly sweet room where Ismene waited. There were no guards lurking by the curtained windows, no ladies in waiting on the emerald sofas, but Maia didn’t let relief weaken her. Ismene probably didn’t want an audience for this.
Ismene glanced up from her spot on the biggest sofa, took one look at Maia and sighed, directing her irritated gaze to Etziel. “What did you do to her? She looks halfway to death.”
“Nothing, your Majesty,” Etziel replied, letting go of Maia to bow deeply. Graceful and unthreatening. He was a better liar than even Maia. “I only escorted her here as you asked.”
Ismene’s lips thinned, but she nodded, golden hair swaying where it was pinned into a swirling updo to compliment the clouds on her dress. “You frighten her to death.”
And whose fault was that? Maia wanted to scream. Who let him loose upon me for my disobedience? Etziel hadn’t done it of his own volition, no matter how much he’d relished it. She’d given the order, or the permission—Maia had never been sure which it was, n
ever knew if Etziel had been watching her before that day, imagining how she’d scream when he cut her.
She wanted, very suddenly, to be anywhere else. At the Library of Vennh, at Silvan’s music hall, on the bridge over the Luvasa with the statues of the saints watching her with uncaring eyes. She’d settle for being in a gutter behind The Baton and Paintbrush if it meant escaping Etziel. She’d always been scared of her aunt for the power she wielded, for the single word it would take to condemn Maia, to send her back to Etziel’s waiting tools—but she’d always been more scared of him, the one who’d done the bloody deeds.
“Leave us,” Ismene sighed, giving Etziel a look that expressed her displeasure. Or maybe it was irritation. No sympathy shone for Maia in her turquoise eyes when the queen faced her, no understanding on her magically smooth, beautiful face, only a scrutinising stare that pierced her down to the bone. Exactly what Maia had come to expect from her aunt. “Would you like to explain, niece, why you made a visit to my dungeons?”
Maia couldn’t get her jaw to unlock. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure it would give out any second now. Her beads kept rattling as she shook, her teeth chattering a counter beat.
“Sit,” Ismene ordered, leaning back against the embroidered back of the sofa with an expectant look.
But Maia knew if she took a single step, her legs would give out, so she stayed rooted to the spot.
“I,” Maia rasped, unlocking her jaw with effort. Her voice was small, a powerless wisp. Her mind raced for an explanation. “I wanted to know w-why he lied,” she said, struggling to form the words.
Ismene watched her for a long second, the penetrating stare of a snake. No matter how beautiful and regal she was, her venom shone through. “And?”
Maia scrambled for words, dragging sickly sweet air in through her nose. “He’s intimidated by us.”