by Eva Muñoz
Gaige sighed, folding his hands on his lap. “They’ve been after me for years, Camron.”
“But—”
“They won’t find anything,” he assured me. “I’ve set up decoys that will put them off the scent. Besides, the Traditionalists are not what I’m worried about right now.”
I blinked at him and waited.
His gaze fell to his clasped hands. “Camron, I took some blood from you before I gave you another booster shot.”
“I’m going through a lot of those, aren’t I?” I sounded relaxed, but my insides were jelly.
“More than I would have expected.”
“What do you think is causing me to bleed?”
He shook his head and stood up. “I have to examine your blood first. The booster I’ve given you will probably last a few hours, if my calculations are correct. I’ll come back as soon as I know more.”
Nothing about what Gaige said took away the worry building inside me. In fact, his cryptic words added to my current state of internal agitation. Even if I felt energized as a result of the synthesized blood, I didn’t want to get out of bed. Gaige left the room without any further words exchanged between us.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open again.
“Oh good, you’re awake!” Perrin entered, carrying a silver tea tray.
She wore a black lace dress with red silk ribbons. Her ensemble reminded me of the bride of Dracula, only blonde, blue-eyed, and way peppier. She didn’t look like an Inshari girl slowly decaying from a disease.
For a second I doubted the credibility of Gaige’s story, but remembering how desiccated Darius looked dissolved all my doubts. I might not see the manifestation of the disease at every waking moment, and those around me seemed to be at the peak of health, yet some feeling I couldn’t describe affirmed the truth in what Gaige had confessed to me.
I pushed aside the morbid thoughts and said, “Gaige just left.”
Perrin deposited the tea on a round table at a corner and clapped twice. The light brightened to a soft glow. She smiled her approval and poured tea into dainty blue cups framed in gold enamel. “I must have missed him. You scared the holy out of us when you passed out.”
My heart skipped. “I’m sorry?”
Perrin stopped arranging the tea-sandwich-shaped yusha with purple cucumbers and leveled a stare at me. My blush felt red hot as I worried the sheets around me.
“Don’t fret,” she said. “After Troyan carried you into this room—”
“He carried me?” I cut her off.
“He seems to like you. Like, a lot.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I threw a frilly pillow at her, which she somehow dodged in six-inch heels. The fluffy missile landed with a muffled thud on the wall and bounced to the floor. I ignored how happy Perrin’s revelation about Troyan made me feel.
“Have some tea,” she said.
“Based from experience, I just have to ask, this isn’t laced with anything, is it?” I took the cup and saucer she brought me.
Perrin crossed her arms and pouted. “It pains me that you would think I’m capable of adding something to your tea.”
The floral aroma floating up from the amber liquid soothed my nerves. I took a tentative sip. Tea slid down my throat and pooled in my stomach like sunlight on a forest floor.
“I wouldn’t put it past any of you,” I teased.
She shrugged. “You’re absolutely right.” Taking her own cup, she glided to my bedside and sat at its edge. “But I consider you my friend. I’d never slip anything into your tea. Well… unless I thought it was for your own good.” She placed her teacup on the table.
I slid my teacup beside Perrin’s and reached for her hand. “Perrin, why did you show me the portrait? Was it because you wanted me to ask Zaire to take the throne?”
“Partly.” Her expression grew sheepish. “I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. I was counting on your feelings for Troyan to get you the rest of the way.”
“How do you know about my feelings for Troyan? Actually, it’s scary that you know so much.”
She sighed. “I like spying. It’s the only exciting thing to do around here.”
“But why?” I frowned. “I know why I want Zaire to take the throne, but what about you?”
“The thing you have to know about my brother is that he may look like he doesn’t do anything, but he’s actually a very active part in Troyan’s plans to stop Vladimir. Everyone thinks he’s someone content at being good for nothing. I think Zaire believes this about himself too, but I know all he wants is to lead. He’s born for it, Camron. He wouldn’t have set up the surveillance on Vladimir if he didn’t want to be proactive in leading this colony. Surely you understand that.”
Seeing the sadness on Perrin’s face strengthened my conviction. “Tell me everything that happened with your father’s exile,” I said.
“Do you already know about the Black Death?” she asked, determination wiping away her sadness.
I nodded.
“And the cannibalism that happened as a result of it?”
“That too.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Because our society was one step away from complete anarchy due to starvation, Excelsior Yaris had all the cannibals rounded up and killed while the rest of the population watched. It is taboo for us to taste our own flesh, and our father made sure everyone was reminded of it.” Perrin stared at a point beyond where I sat. “Once the last of the cannibals were executed, he forbade the use of humans as our main source of food. Everyone was shocked. Excelsior might as well have asked everyone to commit suicide. Our father rubbed salt into the wound by proclaiming that anyone who broke the forbidden would be exiled.”
I let her words sink in. “Why would exile be harsher than death?”
“We’re social creatures, Camron. The punishment of exile is far more painful than death. To be exiled means isolation. And isolation is enough to drive a being that could live several millennia insane. Can you just imagine living a thousand years without talking to anyone?”
I shifted to a more comfortable position and waited.
“Pig flesh, along with certain genetically enhanced vegetables, became the sustenance of a majority of the population. Life returned to normal again. And when yusha came along, the Regalia turned away from pig flesh entirely.”
I had to stop myself from revealing the ramifications of a diet consisting mainly of synthetic materials. I tried to sound casual when I said, “So, you guys munched on pigs. That doesn’t sound so—”
“You have to understand that pigs might work as a substitute for a while, but their flesh is not enough to sustain us. Even so, our people considered our father a hero. Who would’ve thought he’d break his own proclamation?”
“The exile.”
A bleak phrase. It filled the room with the unsaid.
She nodded without meeting my eyes. “He was found devouring a young girl fifty years after his proclamation. Zaire was the one who found him. He was only three hundred years old.”
Six in human years, my mind calculated—a little kid. Zaire, a boy who probably worshipped his father for saving their people, had watched him eat a young girl and destroy that admiration with every bite the Excelsior took of the young girl. The devastation on Perrin’s face said as much.
Tears flooded her eyes. I reached out and pulled her into a fierce hug. No sobs escaped her. I only knew she cried because my shirt soaked up her tears. I didn’t know what to say or how to soothe her, so I settled for stroking her hair.
“My mother told me everything before she withdrew from the world,” she said.
I trembled.
Perrin lifted her head and smiled despite her tears. “It’s for the best, Camron. Really it is.”
“No mother should have put her child through that kind of revelation.”
She leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.”
Embarrassed by her display of
affection, I coughed into a fist. “What did Zaire do after he discovered Yaris?”
Perrin dried the last of her tears with a lace handkerchief she fished out from her sleeve. “A servant was with him at the time.”
The heartbreaking sadness on Zaire’s face when we visited the market flashed before my eyes. The Silent who had broken his vow had done it for the young prince. And Zaire carried that guilt for six hundred years. I couldn’t begin to imagine what that must have felt like. I mourned my mother every day, yet Perrin’s story allowed me to understand what Troyan had meant about my father. Like Zaire, my father shut his heart away to keep from getting hurt all over again.
“Camron?” Perrin bit her lip.
I blinked several times. “Sorry. Got sidetracked. So, what happened to Yaris?”
“He was tried by a tribunal and the new Excelsior.”
“Zaire?”
“My brother became the youngest Excelsior in our people’s history. He exiled Yaris without showing any remorse, or so our mother told me. But I’m sure it broke him inside.”
That I could believe. “But—”
“He abdicated soon afterward.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“My mother didn’t have a clear answer as to why. I believe it became too much for him. But the Traditionalists would have none of it.” Perrin reached for her cold tea and scowled. Without another word she stood and sashayed to the tray and refreshed her cup.
I scrambled off the bed. “So, wait—how did Darius assume power?”
She made a show of sipping. “Zaire proclaimed Darius regent. Since he was married to our father’s sister, Darius certainly had a right to become our next ruler. Vladimir didn’t like any of it, but a proclamation from the Excelsior cannot be questioned without just cause. At the time he had none. Darius became regent, and Zaire remained a solidifying influence. With two Superiori backing him, Darius was slowly accepted by the Merks and Serfs, and eventually, the Regalia. Zaire fully released his hold on the throne about two centuries ago.”
“If Zaire chose to abdicate, why do you want him to become king?” I asked.
Perrin glanced out the window. “I believe it’s the only way for him to get over the guilt he feels for exiling our father. Zaire needs to forgive himself for what happened.”
I heard the truth in Perrin’s words, but I needed to speak to Zaire. I needed him to make me understand why he didn’t want the throne. I thought I was being selfish for asking him to release Troyan from his duty, but in reality, Zaire was just running away from his people and leaving someone else to take up his rightful place.
“Where can I find Zaire?” I asked.
The smile on Perrin’s lips sent a chill down my back.
Chapter Twenty: Scars
WHEN PERRIN told me Zaire was in the weapons room, I laughed in her face. A house with a weapons room? Her face looked so serious that I had to tease her about it. Once she was red-faced, I asked for directions. I had to see this weapons room for myself, even if Zaire was my main purpose.
After a couple of minutes of brisk walking, following Perrin’s directions and trying to figure out what I had to say to convince Zaire to take the throne, I found myself staring up at a sign in bold letters that said: WEAPONS ROOM.
I didn’t know what to expect from this particular room, but it had no guns or explosives. Swords of every kind rested on countless racks: long, broad, double-handed, short, slim, double-edged. Some had the exotic slant I recognized as scimitars, like in One Thousand and One Nights. Another rack held a selection of bows: longbows, crossbows, flat bows. Quivers full of arrows hung above each one. Several stands held up maces while others had shields. A variety of nasty-looking battle-axes dangled from hooks on one wall alongside an odd assortment of weapons—lances, clubs, spears, and others I didn’t recognize. I dubbed those miscellaneous.
At the center of the room sat three long tables. The one in the middle had benches on each side. The farthest consisted of rags and an assortment of tins that contained wax and oils. The one nearest me was covered with several pairs of gloves, chainmail, and leather armbands, wrists-guards, and padding of different sizes. Opposite the battle-axes stood dummies and circular archery targets. On the far wall hung the Demarcus crest, its lion sitting regally with the tip of its sword piercing a snake’s head.
I had read enough fantasy novels to be amazed. Zaire’s weapons room was a stunning example of life imitating art. It was way beyond cool.
Below the crest stood the Inshari I was searching for. Zaire had dressed once again in a billowy shirt over pants so tight they hugged his thighs, and knee-high boots. His clothes accentuated his form, enhancing rather than hiding. He held a broad sword with a ruby the size of a baby’s fist at its pommel. Its silver blade caught the light as he swung and slashed at an imaginary opponent. Then he lifted the sword over his head and slashed down. He repeated this move and several others effortlessly, like a dance that was meticulously timed and choreographed.
Despite his exertion, no sweat gleamed on his brow. His shirt didn’t even cling to his body. How could someone so magnificent be rotting from the inside out?
“How long are you going to stand there, little cat?”
I stayed still, in awe.
Zaire paused and held the sword at an angle to the floor. “Camron?”
“Huh?”
He chuckled, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “I asked how long you were going to stand there.”
“Standing? I’m not standing anywhere. I’m not watching you or anything like that.”
“Of course not,” he said, then waved me over.
I moved absentmindedly and stopped a few feet away from him. I snapped my fingers. I needed to ask him something. I had a purpose to this visit. I sure did. But what was it?
“What’re you doing?” He dropped his free hand to his side.
“Thinking.” I continued snapping my fingers.
“Maybe this will help.” Zaire closed the gap between us and wrapped his arm around my waist. In one swift tug, he pressed my body against his and leaned in, stealing a kiss.
Glaring at him I said, “You weren’t supposed to do that.”
He shrugged casually. “Why not? When I see you, all I want to do is kiss you.”
“No, you don’t.”
His playful expression changed immediately to wariness. He searched my face with his gaze.
Zaire asked softy, “What do you know?”
“Perrin told me everything,” I said.
“I sincerely doubt that.” He sheathed his sword.
“I know enough,” I answered. “What’s the sword for?”
He showed me the flat of the scabbard. It had a gold pin with his family crest etched on it. “This is a ceremonial blade. It’s used when performing the shinkari, or Sword Dance.”
“Was that what you were doing?”
After turning away, Zaire walked to a glass case and placed the sword inside. “Yes, a few steps, nothing more.”
The detachment in Zaire’s voice shattered my restraint. I rushed forward, and without thinking of the consequences, I hugged him from behind. My hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirtfront. His honeysuckle scent wrapped around me like a comforter on a cold day. He, of all people, needed comfort. I knew how it felt to break a little inside every day until only an emptiness filled with sadness remained.
Zaire stiffened.
Resting my cheek on his back, I listened to him breathe. “Zaire, what happened wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to bear any guilt for what you had to do.”
“You need to stop letting my sister manipulate you into convincing me to take the throne.” He covered my trembling fists with his hands. “It’s not going to happen.”
“I don’t care what Perrin’s motives are,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t crack. “What I do know is that she’s right. You can’t just do nothing for the rest of your life, Zaire.”
“What if I like doing nothing with my time?�
� There was no humor behind the question.
“Because you wouldn’t be spying on Vladimir if you didn’t want to do anything. Zaire, you were born to be a leader. When I was vomiting all that blood in the market, you took care of me. You even invoked the Silence for me.”
“Camron.”
The way he said my name killed me. “I’m sorry you found your father that day.”
He trembled. “He was a good Excelsior, a just one. He knew how to rule his people. I looked up to him, everyone did.”
“I’m sorry you had to exile him.”
He sighed heavily and spoke as if I hadn’t said anything. “I was bringing him ariki the day I found him.” His tone changed from sad to grave. “At first, I couldn’t open the door. I was so busy balancing the large plate in one hand and opening the door with the other that I didn’t hear the sounds from the other side. I called out to him, but he was too busy—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered.
He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I called to him, but he was too busy with the girl. She was sprawled on the floor, lifeless. And just as my father turned to look at me, a Silent came into the room and covered my eyes and pulled me away.” He shuddered. “The next time I saw my father was while I sat on the throne, him kneeling before me, shackled, head bowed in shame. He couldn’t meet my eyes.”
“I’m sorry you had to be king at such a young age,” I said. “I’m sorry you were forced into something you were too young for.” I moved my head so my forehead leaned on his back. “But you’re not that child anymore. I’ve only known you for a short time, but I believe you have a good heart. That you’re strong enough to rule your people.”
He spun in the circle of my arms and pushed me away.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
I shook my head. “You can’t keep running away from your responsibilities and expecting someone else to take up the slack, Zaire. People’s lives are in danger.”
His gaze hardened. “Admit it. You’re only doing this because you want Troyan.”