by Jayne Castel
Mira folded her arms across her chest. “So what did the king do about that?”
Outrage flared in Idra’s eyes. Mira’s antagonism was testing her. “We were about to send reinforcements,” she replied, the answer coming out in a low growl.
“Too late for that.” Mira fought a sneer. “There’s an army out there. Are you telling me this is the first you all knew of the attack?”
The captain nodded stiffly. “Aron believes Anthor have enchanters with them—that they used them to cloak their path north so they’d catch us unawares.”
The admission caught Mira by surprise. The use of enchantment would have them at a disadvantage, for King Aron refused to let enchanters counsel him, or to include them in his army as other rulers of The Four Kingdoms did.
Realizing that she’d succeeded in shutting Mira down, Idra stepped back from her. “I’ve called a meeting of The Swarm at dusk in the mess hall,” she said. “Don’t be late.”
With that the woman turned, her forked cloak billowing, and strode away. Mira watched her go, noting the rigid set of Idra’s shoulders.
That’s the first time I’ve ever seen her rattled.
The realization brought her no consolation.
Princess Ninia’s chambers sat high up in the East Tower, above the floors where her two brothers resided. It was a steep climb, although Mira was barely out of breath when she reached her destination. Over a year in service to the princess—and countless trips up and down these stairs—made the climb easy.
Mira left a trail of water in her wake, her wet boots squelching. She hadn’t bothered to return to her quarters and change.
As she approached the huge mahogany doors leading into Ninia’s quarters, Mira slowed her stride.
I can’t believe I’m back here again.
The door of her cage had been open. She’d been so close to flying free. She’d awoken with a light heart and excitement in her belly that morning, but a sense of dull, fatalistic dread had now replaced it.
She rapped on the door, waited a moment, and then pushed her way inside Princess Ninia’s reception chamber.
The first thing she noted upon entering was the smell.
It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, but a rich, fresh smell; charged with energy like the air after a violent thunderstorm.
The windows were open, and grey watery light filtered into the chamber. Mira stopped just inside the door, her gaze sweeping over the plush space. Velvet hangings covered the stone walls, as did high wooden shelves crammed with leather-bound books.
The princess sat upon a chaise longue, an open book on her lap. Ninia had recently turned fourteen—the same age Mira had been when she’d come to live here. Ninia appeared deceptively demure sitting there, but Mira wasn’t fooled. The girl was small and soft-looking with a round face, pretty features, sharp hazel eyes, and a head of springy brown curls. However, Mira knew that beneath that soft façade lay a razor-sharp mind and a monstrous ego.
Ninia was regarding her sternly. “Where have you been?”
“Out, Your Highness.” Mira crossed to the window, to where the rain was now starting to drive in, and sniffed. That smell was the strongest here, although there weren’t any storm clouds outside.
“Where?”
“On an errand.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
Mira pulled the shutters closed, preventing the rain from coming in, her gaze then shifting to the heavy damask drape beside the window. Her gaze narrowed when she saw the cloth bore a long scorch mark. She glanced over her shoulder at Ninia. “What’s this, Your Highness?”
The young woman’s face tensed before she raised a small hand and gave a dismissive wave. “Oh nothing. I just put a candle too close to it earlier.”
Mira’s frown deepened, and she glanced over at the bank of candles burning against the far wall. “Why would you do that?”
“You didn’t answer me before,” the princess replied, her tone turning imperious. “What errand?”
“To the silversmith, Your Highness. The Queen asked me to pick up a candelabra.” Mira turned from the window, facing Ninia fully. “Did you hear the horns?”
Ninia held her gaze a moment before nodding.
“And you know what they mean?”
Irritation flashed across Ninia’s face. “Of course I do.” The princess slammed her book shut. “I hear the Army of Anthor approaches.”
Mira regarded her steadily. “I’ve seen them, Your Highness.”
“You have?” Ninia’s eyebrows arched as she replied. “And what do you think, Mira? Are they here to parley with my father?”
Mira watched her, wondering if this was a test. Ninia was fond of playing games with those who served her; she enjoyed outwitting others and demonstrating her superior cleverness. “I don’t think so, Your Highness,” Mira replied. “I’d say it’s an army with only one purpose … to bring down this city.”
The princess didn’t reply. Her hazel gaze turned introspective, her expression serious. Mira watched Ninia’s face, quietly impressed by the composure she witnessed there. She’d hoped to unnerve her, but that hadn’t happened. The girl looked remarkably calm.
The princess wasn’t easy to like, but at least she had a backbone.
3
Meeting of The Swarm
THE MESS HALL echoed with a chorus of agitated female voices. Around fifty Swallows—ranging from apprentices, the youngest of which was thirteen, to the senior guards in their late forties—filled the space. Mira stood near the back of the group. At the age of twenty four she was one of the Prime, although her status as Princess Ninia’s personal guard gave her special rank among those of her age group.
Mira glanced around, noting how the others looked straight through her. Mira’s ‘promotion’ had done nothing to increase her popularity here.
Folding her arms across her chest, Mira tapped her foot impatiently, awaiting the arrival of their captain. She clenched her jaw, a dart of pain stabbing through her right ear. Her temples were starting to ache as the day’s events finally caught up with her. Her belly cramped then, as she thought about all that had occurred that day. She should have been halfway across the marshes by now.
There has to be a way out. I can’t die here with the rest of them.
Her gaze shifted to those standing nearest to her. A woman her own age stood a few feet away. Her name was Melodi—she had started as an apprentice around the same time as Mira. Normally loud and opinionated during meetings and mealtimes, the guard was unusually silent this evening, her face ashen. Studying her profile, Mira realized Melodi was listening to two younger Swallows speaking together in front of her. They were discussing the city’s defenses.
“I’ve heard there are thousands of them—at least twice the number of our force.”
“Aye, but it’s easier to defend than to attack. No one has ever breached the Great Gates.”
“That’s not correct,” Mira spoke up. “Valgarth did.”
The two Swallows glanced back at Mira, their faces hardening when they saw who had spoken. Mira stared back, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “If you’re going to quote history, get your facts right.”
A snort from Mira’s left drew her attention. Melodi was now watching her. Their gazes met and held for a moment before Melodi favored Mira with a cold smile. “Impressive,” she drawled, her high-born lilt cutting through the chatter of voices around them. “Where did you learn that? Overheard it out scavenging?”
Mira cocked her head. It was an old insult that had long since lost its sting. “You’re becoming a bore, Melodi,” she replied.
The woman’s gaze narrowed, and she opened her mouth to launch a sharp reply. However, Captain Idra’s entrance into the mess hall forestalled her.
The Swarm grew still, all eyes on Idra as she stepped up onto the dais before them. “You’ve all heard,” she greeted them brusquely. “The wolves have gathered at our door. If our defenses fall, this guard is all that stands between the ene
my and the royal family.”
Tension rippled across the crowd. There it was: their sole purpose in life spelled out in a few blunt words. Their own lives had no worth; all that mattered was protecting those of royal blood.
The pain in Mira’s temples increased. She didn’t want to fall on her sword for these people.
The Swarm shifted, chatter rising from its midst.
“Captain,” Melodi called out. “Has Anthor sent delegates to parley with us?”
“Aye,” Idra replied. The word fell like an axe, silencing the voices. “Their king demands our surrender.”
Melodi spat out a curse at the news, her hands fisting at her sides. Likewise, a rumble of outrage rippled through the hall.
“Southern dogs,” Melodi hissed, her gaze turning hard. “I’ll twist their heads off with my bare hands.”
Mira had no doubt she would; she’d sparred enough times with the Swallow to know she was vicious in a fight. However, if this keep fell, even Melodi’s skill wouldn’t save her—it wouldn’t save any of them.
“The Royal Council has just met,” Idra continued, her harsh voice echoing over the now silent hall. “There will be no surrender.” The captain dragged in a deep breath. “Still … we must prepare for the worst. They’ll begin their siege at dawn.”
Mira didn’t have much appetite at supper after the meeting. Usually she looked forward to mealtimes—even ten years away from the streets she never took food for granted.
However, this evening the mutton pie stuck in her throat.
The mood in the mess hall was subdued. The earlier chatter had died down to a murmur, and Mira noted that most of the others picked at their suppers as well. Their gazes were haunted, faces taut. None of them would be called upon to fight yet—The Swallow Guard was the last line of defense—but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.
You knew your execution was coming; you were just last in line for the axe.
She heard some of the women discussing tactics, planning ahead. None of that interested her. If the Anthor army breached this keep, she intended to look out for herself and no one else.
Mira left her plate largely untouched, downed the dregs of her tankard of ale, and walked from the mess hall. She bid none of the others good evening, and no one acknowledged her departure.
She’d have been surprised if someone had—she had no friends here.
Exiting the mess hall, Mira made her way up to the great stairwell in the center of the keep. Her head was thumping now; she just wanted to lie down and pretend all of this was a dark dream. Only, a part of her wanted to run.
I could leave the keep and hide in the city, she told herself. The army won’t slaughter every living soul here; just those inside this keep. However, the idea seemed craven and selfish—even to Mira who had no love for those she served.
I’ll find another way, she reassured herself. But I’d better do it soon.
The mess hall was on the first floor of the keep, while The Swarm’s living quarters took up the levels above. The second floor housed the apprentices’ dorm. The third floor was where the Prime lived, a honeycomb of tiny cell-like chambers. The floors above were reserved for Swallows of senior rank—Idra and her lieutenants. Those women had large comfortable quarters.
Mira made her way to her chamber. It sat at the end of a long, narrow passage on the northern edge of the keep. The lanterns hanging from the walls threw out long shadows. Her boots whispered on the flagstones as she approached her door. Each step felt heavy; the walk to her chamber seemed endless tonight. The weight of lost hopes and dashed dreams pressed down upon her. Mira fought the despair though. She wasn’t beaten yet.
Reaching her door, she took a lantern from the wall and let herself in. The act seemed all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here; she’d planned never to set foot in this suffocating cell again.
The lantern’s orange glow illuminated the cramped confines of her chamber, outlining a narrow sleeping pallet, a night stand, and a single wooden chair in the corner.
Mira’s heart leaped when her gaze alighted upon a figure sitting in that chair—waiting for her. She stopped short.
“Shadows … Your Highness …”
Queen Rena bestowed her with a cool smile. “Come in, Mira … and close the door.”
Mira did as bid, her gaze never leaving the woman wearing an emerald gown who sat in her chamber. The queen looked immaculate as usual; her brown hair was piled up on the top of her head and a jeweled choker sparkled at her throat.
Struggling not to look flustered, Mira crossed the room and placed the lantern on the nightstand. She then turned to the queen. Rena’s gaze had tracked her; her jade eyes were unnerving.
“Your Highness?” Mira forced a blank expression onto her face. “How can I be of assistance?” Even after all these years, the polite words didn’t flow easily. Mira didn’t like being a servant, bowing and scraping like a lesser being. Every honorific she uttered, no matter which member of the royal family she was addressing, cost her.
“Did you know that today marks ten years since you and I met?” Rena asked quietly.
Mira tensed. She did—although the fact that the queen had marked the date too unsettled her. It wasn’t a good thing when folk paid that close attention to you. Mira rarely spoke to the queen these days; the last time had been over a year earlier when Rena had summoned Mira to her solar and appointed her as Ninia’s personal guard.
“Idra and the others thought I’d taken leave of my wits,” the queen continued, as if she hadn’t asked a question. “A half-feral urchin wasn’t good enough to join the guard.” Rena’s gaze pinned Mira to the spot. “But you proved them all wrong.”
Mira arched a brow. “Did I, Your Highness?”
“Aye—you’re stronger, faster, and fiercer than the rest of them. Why do you think I assigned you to Ninia?”
To make me even more unpopular than I was already?
Mira resisted the urge to reach up and massage her throbbing temples. She wished the queen would get to the point, say her piece, and leave. She didn’t reply, letting the silence settle heavily between them.
Rena rose to her feet. She was a tall woman, towering over Mira. “You’re the best of them,” she said firmly, “and I’ve been waiting for the day you’d have the chance to repay my kindness to you.”
Mira went cold. Kindness?
Her incredulity must have shown on her face for the queen gave her a haughty look. “Surely you’ve learned by now that no one ever does anything for others without first calculating how they will benefit from it?”
Mira stared back at her. She didn’t like the predatory gleam she saw in the queen’s eyes.
Rena’s mouth curved into a smile. She then turned, crossed to the window, and opened the shutters. Damp cool air rushed in. The rain had stopped, but the mantle of cloud had lowered over the city.
Mira hesitated a moment before joining the queen. Her gaze settled over the darkened skyline of Veldoras. The lamplighters had been about, and the stone buildings now glowed orange.
“There’s a stillness out there tonight,” Rena murmured. “We’re standing in the eye of the storm.”
“How did the Anthor army get here so fast, Your Highness?” Mira asked. “Idra says they used enchantment to mask their arrival.”
Queen Rena of Thûn glanced Mira’s way, her face hardening. “Aye … that’s what the council believes. My husband’s fear of enchantment will be his undoing. Now we must all pay the price for his weakness.”
Mira watched the queen steadily, not surprised by Rena’s bluntness. It was common knowledge within these walls that King Aron had never been the king, or husband, that Rena had wanted.
Mira heaved in a deep breath. “You want me to repay you. How can I do that? This city is about to fall … I can’t stop it.”
Rena smiled once more, although here was no warmth in her eyes. “No, you can’t,” she replied softly, “but the task I have for you is much more important.
”
4
The Iron Gates
“WHERE ARE WE going?”
Princess Ninia panted the words, out of breath after a fast descent down the spiral stairwell of the East Tower.
Mira flicked the girl an irritated look. “I told you … the queen wants me to escort you out of the keep, to safety.”
Ninia gave her a hard look. “I don’t believe you. Mother should have come to see me herself.”
Mira took hold of Ninia’s arm, dragging the princess with her down the stairs. “She’s busy.”
Ninia struggled. “But what about the others? Aren’t mother, father, Coran and Yolan coming with us?”
“Your parents and brothers will meet us later,” Mira lied, tightening her grip.
They emerged from the tower, stepping out onto the swing bridge that linked the East Tower with The Swallow Keep—and halted.
The roar of battle—drowned out by five-feet of stone inside the tower—assaulted them. Thick, oily plumes of black smoke drifted up into a grey sky.
Veldoras burned.
Clutching the princess against her, lest the girl try to bolt, Mira surveyed the crowds of dark-clad soldiers far below who surged along the East Bridge toward the keep.
A dull sense of fatalism swept over her.
Just two days—that was all it had taken for the Anthor army to breach the city’s outer defenses. They’d broken through just after dawn before sweeping through the city like a hurricane.
How did they get here so soon?
The clang of iron and the roar of men’s voices echoed up from the tightly-packed spiral of buildings that made up Veldoras. The lazy coil of the Brinewater Canal should have slowed the invaders—for there were numerous hump-back bridges to cross before the Spiral Way led them to The Swallow Keep—but the city’s labyrinthine layout had not foiled the Anthor army.