AshesAndBlood

by Katie Zaber

  “Yeah, I enjoyed my disgusting cousin undressing me with his eyes while talking pleasantries with my dear Aunt Meloda while she decides whether to have her son marry or kill me. I will jump if it comes to marriage, but I might take Mek with me. That asshole.”

  Manadhon snorts, holding back his laughter. “Stop talking like that. Nothing lasts forever.”

  I sigh. “Can we make a stop before going to the library?”

  “Where inside the castle would you like to go?”

  He said inside the castle. A clear indication I am not allowed outside. At least I can go to the library. “The kitchen. I want to ask the cooks about a couple recipes from home I would like them to make. I’ve been craving pizza. It’s an easy dish, but heavenly. Comfort food.”

  “Pesta? Never heard of that. I’ve never taken a royal family member to the kitchen. It’s for servants only. I can arrange for a chef to come to your room and discuss a menu.”

  “That won’t work. I need to taste the ingredients. It’s easy to make once you know the recipe. It’s harder to replicate without the right ingredients. I have to be in the kitchen, tasting and instructing. Please.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  His long silver hair shimmers in the blue lights. It’s tied back with black leather. He wears the same khaki-colored uniform every day, which isn’t bad looking. I’ve always considered men in uniform sexy, but most of the ones I knew have been jerks. Proud, cocky, most have a God Complex—maybe my father was a soldier. The gold torc Manadhon wears looks well taken care of. It must be important to him besides a symbol of his rank. I should ask him what it means, how he achieved it, and how old he is.

  I hate how every hallway looks identical. I wish I had a map. After going down a couple of floors of white blocks and blue lamps, we continue into a large corridor. To my surprise, the white repetitive stones end and solid red walls with gold columns begin. Golden columns two stories high, if not taller, tower over us as we continue forward, surrounded by regal-red painted walls. We pass by four colossal doorways.

  “This way to the common tongue wing.”

  “What are in the other rooms?” I point to the four other closed doors.

  “Other languages. The castle has an extensive library.” He crosses the threshold into a room the size of a museum.

  Rows and rows upon stories of books line the room. It’s impossible to measure how many books fill the room. It’s endless. Staircases along the walls ascend eight floors high. Ladders sit at the end of each row, making books on higher shelves accessible. It’s the library of my dreams. I don’t think Earth has a comparable library. Infinite books; it’s overwhelming. The room sucks the breath out of me in awe. When Manadhon said library, I pictured nothing as big. The fact there are other rooms equal to this in size boggles my mind.

  “This is all the books in the common tongue? I’m never going back to my room. This is amazing. Beyond my expectations.” I walk through the aisles, my fingers gliding over book covers. Some have written titles, others drawings and paintings. Some are made of leather and are engraved. Others are covered with dust and look too fragile to touch. “This is unbelievable, better than a dream. It would take several lifetimes to read them all.”

  Manadhon shrugs. “It’s the greatest library in the world. Never been a big reader, never had time.”

  “You should. There’s so much knowledge. So many adventures and places to travel.”

  “You can go on adventures yourself.”

  “Says the guard who won’t let me leave this castle.”

  “Eventually, when things get sorted.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Things will never get sorted. My life will only become more chaotic.”

  I wish I could spend all my time here. This is incredible. So much information stored under one roof. It’s like the internet exploded its vast knowledge into a single building. I’m astounded that this room has only the books in the common tongue. I want to explore the other rooms later. I should learn a new language; it would be handy. I will have to ask Kilyn to teach me.

  “Until then, read what you want. Anything in particular?”

  “History. Books about my lineage, history of the kingdom, and its people. There is so much to learn.”

  “Boring stuff. History and science is on the left, myths and stories are on the right.”

  “You mean split down the center of this room?”

  “Yes.”

  I suck a deep breath of air. This will take time. History books comprise half the library? How long does the history go back?

  How many eons did it take to fill this room?

  Why hasn’t their civilization become more advanced than Earth’s? With this much knowledge, they should be intergalactic space travelers with a cosmic space post. They don’t even know or understand the physics to build planes. The better question is why my father didn’t bring back any technology from Earth. Maybe he wants everyone ignorant and keeps the knowledge in the tar-covered banned book room for later purposes. If smart, he would have brought back books filled with technological advances in all fields and aspects of life. Medicine, transportation, construction, electricity. My only fear is he brought back books on weaponry. Guns imported here would be devastating.

  I have seen nothing so far that makes me think they’ve discovered gunpowder or this world’s equivalent. If my father brought it, he would be unstoppable. If humans had guns and war broke out, they could fight back and maybe win, but guns here would modify this world. The second the information spreads and people can replicate gunpowder, this entire world would change. There would be a dramatic power struggle as everyone fought. A frightening arms race over who has the strongest bomb would result in a nuclear war. The domino effect from one bullet, from one idea could have enormous ramifications for this world.

  Some things are better left where they belong.

  In their own world.

  “Tar door first, then search for books.”

  He shrugs again. “Fine. This way.” Manadhon walks farther into the maze of bookshelves, leading me away from the main area.

  As we walk, a buzzing noise starts. It’s enough to make me stop and rub my ears. But it fades. We make a left and head down a long corridor, walls painted and floors tiled in blood red. At the end of the hallway, a thick glass wall conceals what looks like a tar-covered door. The buzzing starts again, but sounds different. It’s higher pitched, like an animal in pain, squealing. It doesn’t stop, but gets louder with each footstep. A single small doorframe, an indication the room isn’t that large, or a possible trick. The room could be the size of the main library. I’m dying to know what he has hidden. On top of the door is a thick layer of glass. There is a chain twenty feet in front of it so you can’t get any closer. It reminds me of a museum or art gallery with velvet ropes warning not to cross. Please don’t touch the expensive pieces with your sticky, germ-ridden fingers, or face the consequences.

  I watch the tar move, stir, and squirm under the glass. One large wriggling black mass. I take another step forward, pushing my legs against the cold chain. I didn’t realize I had walked so fast down the hall. Manadhon holds out his hand, blocking me from any further advancement. Is the tar alive? Is that what is making the screeching noise?

  “You must stay behind the chain.”

  “Are your ears ringing?” I ask.

  Manadhon turns to look at me, raising his eyebrow.

  “Can you hear it? I don’t know how to describe it besides wrong.”

  Manadhon shakes his head but says nothing.

  “Seriously, you don’t hear it?” I ask again.

  “I hear nothing. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. Probably that horrible lunch. Let’s go pick out books.”

  Walking away from the door feels wrong. It feels like I’m ignoring an injured person or animal. As if I’m turning my back on something begging for help. I can still hear it call out in its high-frequency squeal. It knows
I heard it. It got louder every step I took and shrieked as I turned away. I don’t know what my father makes, but it’s wrong. What the hell can my father make that’s impenetrable, screams out in pain, and kills everything living that it touches?

  That’s one hell of a fucking riddle. What’s even more troubling is how dangerous will my powers be?

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Megan

  At night, the garden dining terrace is lovely, especially with no hawks circling me, no talons waiting to shred me apart. It’s truly a beautiful night. Hints of citrus fruit drift on the breeze. They remind me of oranges, probably palka. They look like limes but taste like a peachy orange and are very juicy. There must be a plant nearby. In the moonlight, the garden looks different. It gives off a primitive jungle vibe. I half expect a panther or nunda to pounce out of the bushes.

  I stare at the night sky. I don’t know if it will ever look normal with three moons. Not that it isn’t beautiful. It’s alien. It feels wrong to look up and see three moons. It reminds me every night that I’m not home. I miss the old man’s face on the cheese crater moon, even if you can see more stars here than home. Hell, one might even be Earth’s Sun. I still don’t know exactly where we are, but maybe Earth is near one of those distant stars. Dana might know. She studied astrology for a semester in college. Is she somewhere, staring at the stars with the girls, thinking about home, questioning if she sees our planet?

  I came out here after my father had made dinner plans and then canceled them. The thought of eating alone in my room wasn’t appetizing.

  “Stop.” Manadhon’s voice freezes me in my tracks. Not like what he did to my friends, but because of his actions. A millisecond ago he was at my side, now he stands five feet in front of me with his hand on his hilt, ready to draw. “Who’s there?”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle.” Liam shuffles out from a hidden bench tucked away in the corner. “Came out here to relax. Mother and brother were arguing—they never cease. I needed peace. I was about to head inside. I won’t bother you.”

  He looks beaten, scared, completely lacking self-esteem and confidence. Mek must bully the hell out of him, and his mother pays no mind or cares what he thinks. He’s alone in his own family, something we have in common.

  “Don’t leave,” I say. “There’s plenty of room for the both of us, cus.”

  Manadhon bows his head and walks around us in a circle, looking around, making sure no one else is hiding. Satisfied, he takes his post near the door, overlooking the entrance and the rest of the balcony. Which makes me wonder where Liam’s guard is. Surely he must have one too.

  “Cus?”

  “Short for cousin. You come here often?”

  “It’s my retreat away from the family. This garden is my favorite. It overlooks the ocean and you can see forever. The horizon never ends. The other ones are nice too. There’s one on the lower level. It has the biggest flowers but no view. The one on the jungle side is nice, but no ocean.”

  “Yeah, the ocean view is nice. It’s pretty,” I say. He picked a nice place for a retreat, but I won’t come back again. I’m not trying to be mean, but I don’t want to send my cousin Liam any wrong signals. “How long have you lived here?”

  “My whole life.”

  “What is it like?”

  “Boring. There’s nothing to do. Study, go to the beach, study, eat dinner with important people that don’t care about me, and repeat. A dull day-to-day life. No thrills, no excitement, except for the constant fighting between my mother and brother.” He cocks his head. “You’re the most interesting event to happen since your father was crowned.”

  “Sounds boring, but living on the beach must be nice.” Not even going to entertain his comment on me being interesting. I don’t want him interested. “What would you do if you were not here?”

  “Travel with Aunt Carmia. I spent a year with her on her ship. That was the best time of my life. We traveled to distant cities. I saw an ocean of sand instead of water, mountains bellowing smoke into the sky as if breathing. Strange animals, different customs and people, everything was exotic. I felt free. I would love to do that again.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Responsibilities. My family needs me here. It isn’t easy to pick up and go.”

  “It is if you want it.”

  “Not everything is so simple. I wish it was,” Liam says.

  “Sounds like an excuse. You should live for yourself. If traveling makes you happy, you should do it.”

  “I’d abandon my family.” Liam sighs. “My mother is—well, she means well, but she can be extremely assertive. My brother needs someone to watch his back. He’s all muscle but no brains. They need me. Without me, they would kill each other. Actually, I should check on them. They were screaming at each other before. Goodnight, Megan.”

  Liam bows his head and then nervously rushes away to the door. Poor guy. Battered by both his mom and brother his whole life but he still remains loyal. He called me Megan, just like my Aunt Carmia. Points for him. I might have at least one semi-normal family member.

  “Goodnight, Liam,” I call out, but he has one foot through the door. What’s with this family and having the last word?

  It must have sucked growing up here. I can relate to him and his family dynamic, with my mom being an alcoholic and my sister a selfish snob, but they were nowhere near as abusive as his mother and brother appear. Though I still can understand how it feels to abandon them. It was a hard decision to make, even if I only lived an hour away from either. Is that why I want to go home so badly? So I can take care of my horrible family?

  I wonder how old Liam is. On Earth, my guess would be eighteen, nineteen. His brother has to be older, in Earth years, closer to mid-twenties. No clue how old they are in Fae years. I really need to figure out the conversion.

  Manadhon stands in the corner, still searching the room. He’s always scanning, always on edge, ready for an attack at any moment. “Hey, Mana.” He glares at me. I guess he doesn’t like nicknames. “Let’s talk.”

  He saunters over, not looking happy. “About what?”

  “Anything. Where did you come from?”

  “A town north of here, on the coast.”

  “Why did you become a soldier?”

  “To protect my family,” he says, glaring at the ocean.

  “Noble. Do you get to see them often?”

  “No.”

  “Why? I’m sure I can give you time off or have them come to the—”

  “They’re dead.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you have any family left?”

  “No. They all died during a flood. I was away training.”

  “Did you ever go back?” I ask, and then feel bad for asking so many questions.

  “There’s nothing left.”

  “Closure. You could go say goodbye. I wish I had that chance with my family.”

  “Sorry I threatened your friends. I wouldn’t have killed them. Part of the soldier’s oath is to protect innocents. I try to stand by my oath and be as honorable as possible while appeasing my king,” Manadhon says.

  “That’s a hard balance when taking orders from a dictator. Are my father’s orders usually violent? Please tell me if you can… Is he a bad person?”

  No response. He stares out into the ocean. The waves crashing below are my answer.

  “You follow orders. It’s your job. You’re trained to listen and obey. You’re a soldier. I understand. It isn’t personal. I know you didn’t need to spare my friends. Thank you for apologizing. From what I’ve seen, you aren’t bad. You’re a man trying your best, which is more than most can say.”

  He scrunches his eyes closed for a moment, looking like he’s in pain. Then he opens them. The pink moon reflecting off his silver eyes gives them a rosy tint. It makes him look less threatening. “Are you hungry? It’s late enough to sneak you into the kitchen without too much trouble. You wanted petesa?”

  ***

  Before stepping into
the kitchen, I try to clear my head of all the insanity and focus on the positive rather than negative. Tonight I’m going to eat pizza. And I’m going to enjoy every minute, stuffing myself with the delicious goodness.

  On the way to the kitchen, Manadhon warned me that this kitchen isn’t as big as the main one, with only twenty ovens, but it’s staffed around the clock. I got the impression that if I wanted steak and potatoes at three in the morning, all I’d have to do is send Kilyn to place the order.

  The smells of herbs and spices hang heavy in the air. We must be near. Every step closer intensifies the aroma of baked bread, savory meats, and sweet, fresh fruits. The tantalizing fragrance makes my stomach growl, reminding me that all I ate today was a tiny salad, two biscuits, and a petite chocolate lava cake—which was hours ago. Manadhon opens a jade-colored wooden door. A burst of heat and a whiff of seared meat greet us.

  Six cooks lounge around a table, talking in hushed tones over their own meals. The kitchen is expansive. It’s much larger than any kitchen I’ve worked in. Twenty large stoves and flat grills sit in five rows. All the workstations have their own stove, flattop, and sink. Each workstation is also equipped with sharp knifes in wooden blocks, and utensils of every type stick out of ceramic cylinders. Every inch is spotless of crumbs or grease stains.

  A young woman lifts her hazel eyes off her plate and sees us in the doorway. “Good evening. How can we serve you?” She doesn’t know who I am. Most likely, none of them do. I’m sure they have heard there is a new princess, but I doubt they have heard an accurate description.

  “Princess Mealla—”

  The cook’s eyes widen.

  “Megan,” I correct.

  Manadhon clears his throat. “Princess Megan would like you to cook a special meal for her.”

  Attentive eyes stare, ready to cook. I feel awkward being introduced by Manadhon. I need to tell him not to do that, that I can speak for myself. “Hello. Where I come from, we have a meal called pizza. The three main parts are the dough, sauce, and cheese.” They give me blank looks. “I’ll show you. First, we need to find the main ingredient for the sauce. I don’t know the name of the vegetable, but I remember what it looks like.”