by C B Samet
“This is Prince Porter Stout of Bellos.” I motioned toward Porter whose nose had stopped bleeding, but the evidence of his lost fight appeared obvious in his bruised skin and the purple discoloration under his eyes.
Coco peered at Porter, startled, then shot Baird a look of reprimand before her cold gaze came back to me. “The Prince of Bellos has been assaulted by the Avant Champion?”
Her incredulous tone grated on my nerves.
Before I could lash out at her with my own icy words, Baird placed a hand on my shoulder. “I assaulted the Prince. He came to Mulan and threatened Abigail’s with this.” He handed the weapon to Coco. “Take care. It discharges an iron pellet with enough velocity to puncture organs.”
Coco turned the weapon over in her hands.
“It is called a pistol,” Baird said. “Prince Stout and his companions invaded the serpent volcano island in an attempt to steal the scepter.”
Coco turned her eyes to the Prince. “I am Captain DeFay of Queen Rebekah’s guard. What use have you with the scepter?”
Porter smiled. “What scepter? We’re explorers. We boarded the island to explore, and this peasant and her patron assaulted us.”
Coco arched an eyebrow at me, this time with a hint of mischievousness.
In my younger years, I would have lashed out at Porter—as I was no peasant and Baird was not my patron. But age and maturity brought self-worth no haughty Prince could trample.
Coco stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Porter’s shoulder. “That woman has already accomplished more in her lifetime than you could dream of achieving in all of yours. As far as I can tell, your only success is being born to privilege.”
I was startled at her words, wondering if her earlier greeting and accusation had been intended to rile me. She had that sort of bizarre humor.
Porter grunted.
“That is your stance then, Prince?” Coco asked. “You were exploring and suffered an unprovoked attack?”
“It’s the truth.”
I raked my gaze over his ragged appearance—but decided to let his lies stand for now.
“We will allow you to clean and present yourself to the Queen. Your men will be given safe quarter under watch. What of the rest of your crew?”
Porter glowered at me as Coco spoke. He seemed to recognize that this was the woman in charge—but not the most dangerous woman in the room. We were not one and the same.
Hate me. You are neither the first, nor will you be the last.
It was strange for a human to emit so much hate—so much evil. The room grew cold and dark. Men who loathed me for inexplicable reasons surrounded me. I looked at Mal, who had silently followed us to the castle and remained an observer. His dark eyes lowered and filled with only affection for me. I gave him a grateful smile.
“Abigail, will you remove his restraints?” Coco stood beside Porter, inspecting the rings and obviously concluding no locking mechanism held them in place.
Obligingly, I stretched the metal using my Stone of Strength and pulled the rings off Porter’s wrists, leaving the other sailors bound.
Coco instructed the other guards to escort the sailors to holding cells. As they left, she turned her critical look to Baird. “You’re injured?”
“I’m recovered.”
Her eyes inspected his clothed body. She seemed to want to ask him more details but refrained. She turned and left with her unrestrained prisoner. Knowing Coco’s level of skill, she wouldn’t be bested by Porter if he decided to make an offensive move. She’d also ensure many more guards surrounded him before she introduced him to Queen Rebekah.
I turned back to Baird. A red welt had formed on his jaw and his clothing was covered in black sand from Mulan beach.
“I’m going home. Paul asked for a family meeting tonight. If you’re available, they’d find comfort in you being there.”
“I’ll come later. For now, one of us needs to maintain a presence at the castle.”
I frowned.
He added: “Whatever reason those men have for invading, the Avant Champion needs to be part of learning the truth—part of the solution.”
“You’re right. You think the Prince’s arrival is a harbinger of war?” I shook my head. “This shouldn’t be possible.”
Baird continued, “Go to your family. Return here in two hours in presentable attire, and we’ll see the Queen. Let the children know we’ll have that family meeting. Tonight.”
Nodding, I transported home.
I spent the next thirty minutes reassuring the children and setting them back on track with their daily chores and lessons. Rebekah gave me a forgiving hug before dashing off to the garden to collect herbs with Paul.
I cleaned myself up and dressed in my battle attire—black boots, dark tunic, silver breastplate and red cape. My Ballik blade hung at my side.
“You look battle ready, Champion,” Mal said, appearing beside me.
“I suppose that is the message the Queen will need to see.”
I wanted to tell Mal I missed and for him to tell me about the trip he’d mentioned he’d taken with Orrick. But Baird was right; I needed to be a part of the discussions that would be provoked by the Bellosians’ arrival on the volcano island.
I returned to the castle where guards led me to a small group convened to discuss the intrusion. We gathered in one of the Queen’s conference rooms—the Queen, Baird, Coco, Tarik (the Minister of Foreign Affairs), and Bordo (the Minister of Defense). We were all too tense to sit. Tea grew cold and pastries turned stale as they sat, untouched, on the oak table.
“Coco explained the attack,” Bordo said, his lanky figure standing unmoving, like a reed on a windless day. “The island is technically Crithian territory. The Prince claims to have merely been exploring, while Lady Cross tells us they intentionally set sail for the volcano.”
All eyes stared intently at me. “That’s correct. They told us they sought the scepter when we first me.”
“We have no proof that their intentions are hostile,” Tarik said.
I crossed my arms. “No proof; save for Baird nearly dying from a wound from their pistol. That seems fairly hostile to me.”
Tarik raised empty hands and gave an insincere, apologetic expression. “The proof?”
“Would you rather he died so you’d have your proof?” I snapped.
“Diplomatically, we need to proceed as if this is an honest mistake,” Tarik said.
I shook my head and pivoted away, so as not to look at the feeble politician and let my temper further simmer toward him.
Baird spoke next: “It seems there are several questions at hand. What purpose would they have in seeking the scepter? What are their future intentions? And why is this possible, when the scepter should be preventing such hostile ambitions?”
“We won’t get the answers sitting here,” Coco observed.
The impatience in her tone surprised me. Usually, that was my role.
I turned toward Tarik. “Do you have any knowledge of what transpires on Bellos?”
“Nothing conspiratorial. We know they’re more advanced in technology and trade has always been good.” He smiled a polished, white smile that stood in contrast to his dark skin. He seemed unperturbed by unfolding events.
The slight furrowing of Bordo’s brow suggested he didn’t think as lightly of the situation as Tarik. “The events are disturbing. Even if they don’t know the importance of the scepter, and our country’s valor in protecting it, the serpent volcano is in Crithian domain. They should have sought our approval before sending a vessel there. A lost shrimp boat is one thing, but sending the Prince of Bellos is sending a message.”
The Queen’s pale face maintained a dismal expression. She maneuvered in her green dress, with its laced hem, to take a seat at the table. Baird poured her a cup of tea.
I considered the Queen’s health, what with all this stress and talk of invasion. She was nearing seventy-five years in age. Her once-gray hair now piled as m
ounds of soft, snow-colored strands on top of her head. She no longer needed to wear white make-up to appear pale.
Despite her age, though, Queen Rebekah still spoke with authority. “Let us each take one full day to gather more information. Captain DeFay can question Prince Stout. Minister Tarik and Minister Bordo can leverage their foreign contacts. Baird and Abigail can research the scepter—perhaps the monk library—, so that we might know why it would be sought-after.”
Coco’s eyelashes flickered toward me in irritation. Baird gave a light swallow. Coco knew his being on the island with me endangered him. Surely, she didn’t think I still posed a risk to his safety during a day-long research expedition? I needed to find a moment to speak with her privately and learn what was going on between those two.
“My Queen.” Coco turned abruptly and left the room. With the chill in her brisk behavior, I wondered if ‘questioning’ the Prince might involve more than words. Coco had pent up aggression, and I didn’t envy Porter’s predicament at the moment.
Tarik and Bordo bowed and left the room together. As they walked out side-by-side, they began bickering about the significance of Prince Porter’s arrival.
I glanced down at the ring on Baird’s finger. His Che stone—the Language Stone. With the stone, he could interpret both written and spoken foreign languages. It was the reason his task would be to search the monk library for scrolls and books on the scepter. I’d been assigned as his helper because we often worked together, but the Queen remained unaware of my connection to Mal—Malakai. I’d be able to acquire answers more readily than Baird given my source was seven-thousand-years-old and tied directly to the scepter.
As I followed Baird out of the room, I glanced back at the Queen. She sat in stoic silence. Her pale green dress encapsulated her in the same way a stem holds a flower. In her advanced age, had she become something so delicate?
Baird spoke in a deep voice, I will consult the scrolls. You know who you must consult.
I realized he wasn’t speaking, but conveying his thoughts to me. “I will.”
I wanted to ask him why Coco had been shooting daggers at me since we’d arrived at the castle, but the answer seemed obvious. I’d brought Baird into a dangerous situation. She had every right to be angry with me for endangering the man she loved.
“I want to speak with Coco. See if she’ll improve her disposition toward me.”
Baird pursed his lips. “Just give her time and space.”
We walked down the corridor. “I didn’t know the Bellosians have weapons of that magnitude.” My voice was apologetic again.
“And you can stop blaming yourself, Abigail.”
“But Coco…”
“Coco has other reasons for her…” his voice trailed.
“…animosity?” I said.
“I would call it discontentment.”
“What reasons?” What else had I done?
“Some other time, perhaps.”
“Baird…” I protested.
He stopped and turned toward me. His face softened. “You and I are dear friends, Abigail. You’re also the only person with whom I have this mental connection.” He pointed a finger between us.
I nodded.
He continued, “I’d do anything for you, including risking my life. Imagine how that makes Coco feel.”
I frowned. Coco was jealous of me? I thought we’d progressed beyond that. “That’s absurd.”
He raised a hand to quiet me. “I’ve assured her of that, but her jealousy—and her own self-loathing for her part in Joshua’s death—has made a relationship between us… difficult.”
“I should talk to her. Reassure her.”
“I’m asking you not to.” His voice suddenly turned stern.
“Okay,” I relented.
He still seemed irritated, but this time by me yielding. “Abigail—you’re the Avant Champion, a savior, and a university professor. Try to imagine the jealousy, and resentment, and insecurity another woman might feel toward you.”
His words silenced me, but transformed my feelings of worry about Coco to anger. She was a respected Captain of the Guard and a beautiful woman. She could have wed Baird—one of the most renowned historians and mythologists of the century. She’d made her own choices.
I realized we’d stopped walking again and Baird was watching my facial expression carefully. I tucked my anger inside and transformed my expression into a neutral mask.
“I will remain silent,” I promised.
His eyes roamed my face for a moment, before he finally gave me a gracious bow and then vanished.
But not forever.
I heard that, Abigail, Baird said.
Annoying telepathy.
The communication had been inadvertent, but not untrue.
4
MALAKAI
I gazed around the study, looking at Abigail’s children after everyone had gathered for the family meeting. Natalie was nine now, and unless she was riding a horse, she always dressed as though she might be summoned to the castle at any moment—in prim and tidy dresses better suited for a tea party than a farm.
Paul was seven and already as tall as Natalie. He’d been developing the calm disposition of his father—at least, he had during the moments he wasn’t battling imaginary dragons with a wooden sword.
Rebekah was five and spent her days outside, running through the forest with Baird’s wolf, Fury, or digging in the garden. She was always covered in dirt by the end of the day. If I were to have a favorite, it would be the free-spirited Rebekah.
Abigail sat beside Rebekah on the sofa. She wore her long, dark hair down in simple waves. She’d changed out of her battle outfit and into black pants and a burgundy tunic.
Baird stood in one corner, quietly listening to the conversation.
I stood by the fire—unseen by all except Abigail.
“Who were those men?” Paul asked. He sat on the floor near the fire.
“They're from Bellos. They came to Mulan looking for Malos’ scepter.” Abigail stroked Rebekah’s dark hair.
“Why?” Rebekah leaned into her mother.
“I don't know about their specific intentions, but we’re most concerned about an invasion.”
“What does that mean?” Paul asked.
“For all of you? Nothing. They’d never make it to our estate. For myself and Baird, this means we need to help the Queen.”
For me, I thought, it means helping Abigail. I’d be back in her life in concentrated doses again. The prospect both excited and worried me.
“I want to help,” Paul offered.
“So do I,” chimed Natalie.
Rebekah curled tighter into Abigail. “I want to stay with Nana.”
“Okay, sweetie.” Abigail kissed the top of Rebekah’s head. “What you can do–what all of you can do–is stay safe. You can do that here, or I can take you to Nana’s.”
“Why do you get to go?” Natalie asked her mother.
I blew out a breath of frustration and reminded myself that Abigail’s daughter was young, headstrong, and incapable of taking her mother’s perspectives into consideration.
Baird didn’t chide Natalie. Joshua, Abigail’s late husband, would have at least reminded her to use a respectful tone. In his absence since his death, Natalie had taken more liberty in showing disrespect to her mother. If she’d known half of the things Abigail had done in her lifetime, and all the sacrifices she’d made, Natalie might change her demeanor.
Might.
“I imagine they’ll try diplomacy first. Baird and I will be there if that fails,” Abigail said.
When it fails, I thought.
Abigail glanced at Baird. “It may mean Crithos goes to war.”
“Wow.” Paul was the only one to meet that word with enthusiasm.
“For now,” Abigail continued, “all we know is Baird and I will be gone for a few days here and there in order to be helpful to the Queen. We’ll come back as often as we can. If you stay here, Gert, M
olly, Cook Mo and all of the others will continue on as usual.”
“You'll tell us all the news you have?” Natalie asked pointedly.
“If events escalate from negotiation to something more, I'll let everyone know.”
“I want to stay at the castle,” Natalie said.
Abigail’s jaw dropped.
“I’ve an open invitation,” the girl insisted.
“I want to stay here and look after the crops,” Paul said.
“I want Nana’s,” Rebekah repeated.
Abigail scanned the room before casting her gaze to the ceiling and rubbing her temples. “Then, I suppose we’ll divide up for a few days until this matter with Bellos is settled.”
I paced Orrick’s living room as he stirred the herbal concoction on the stove. He wore lose pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, stained with whatever multicolored potions he’d been brewing.
Snake Eyes straightened his woven snakehead hat and walked on Orrick’s counter, mimicking my pacing. He clasped his tiny hands behind his back.
“There’s malice in this mission. I can feel it.” I clenched my fists in the air. “My infernal foresight has been slipping away from me over the years. Yours still works,” I said to Orrick.
“Well…”
“Darkness oozes from Porter Stout,” I continued. “I’m certain the King of Bellos is no better. I see the Queen and Abigail setting sail for Bellos. This won’t be a diplomatic mission.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It will be a disaster.”
“Disaster,” Snake Eyes echoed in his high-pitched voice.
Orrick added a sprinkle of belladonna and continued to stir. “So, tell Abigail not to go.”
“Well, that’s preposterous. If anyone can protect the Queen, it’s Abigail. Without her, the trip will undoubtedly be a calamity.”
“Calamity!” Snake Eyes shook a fist in the air.
“So, bid them all a fruitful journey,” Orrick said.
“Haven’t you been listening? They’re freely sailing into the lion’s den.” I scoffed, “I won’t support that kind of reckless behavior.”