The Exalted

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  “I’ve never had much of a mind for languages.”

  “Never had much of a mind for languages?” Pem gawked at me. “It ain’t as though it’s hard, Bo. It’s just learning a new vocabulary. You’ve got to learn how to talk to people, elsewise they’re likely to get the best of you. You sure you’re cut out to be king?”

  I looked up at the darkening sky as yet another cloud front of chilled, drizzly rain rolled across the bay toward us.

  “No. I’m not sure at all.”

  * * *

  “I don’t mean to be awful, you know.” Noriava settled herself on the green velvet settee, a glass of amber-colored wine held precariously in one of her elegant hands, her dark green eyes settled contemplatively on my face. “I would vastly prefer to find a way past the challenges of our early relationship and find some common ground.”

  We had retired to a room just off the atrium after yet another meal through which I remained cut entirely out of the conversation, due to my stumbling Denorian and reticence to engage with the queen. Noriava’s guests, still visible through the wide double doors, engaged themselves in various card games and heated debates in highly elevated, intellectual Denorian.

  I perched on a low bench, a glass of bubbly mineral water slowly warming in my hands, despite the chill of the palace. As a precaution, I’d stopped drinking anything alcoholic. I didn’t want to be caught off guard or agree to any of her seemingly innocuous prenuptial requests without a clear head. I knew, on some level, that I ought to make at least some effort to cultivate a relationship with my fiancée, but I could find neither the energy nor the will to go to such lengths to placate her. Instead, I stared at the patterns in the thick Samirian carpet beneath my feet.

  “Doctor Loviar tells me that he’s begun your companion on a medication he has great confidence will do some good for the young man.”

  I forced myself to keep my face still, though it was by no means easy. I’d neither seen Doctor Loviar nor heard his name since that first awful night when Swinton had drunk the temple’s poison. I wondered if she was mistaken, or if this was a calculated move on her part, though her intentions were not at all clear to me.

  “I’m grateful to you for offering Swinton the care of your medical practitioners,” I said, offering my response in Denorian.

  I sipped my mineral water and forced myself not to look for Noriava’s reaction. My insistence on speaking her language, despite my stumbling lack of fluency, seemed to be a source of endless frustration to Noriava, which in turn fueled the fire of my determination. It was perhaps a bit childish, but the tiny spark of joy I found in irritating Noriava alongside the added benefit of practicing my Denorian was enough to keep me trudging mulishly forward.

  Noriava’s cat, Tipswallis, leaped up onto the settee and turned three tight circles before settling down to glare at me. Noriava petted him, her dark stare a double of her cat’s. He began to purr, and the sound was like a chunk of wood being scraped against rocks. I glanced at the party in the adjoining room, wondering just how long I had to stay before I could make my excuses and retire.

  “I was thinking,” Noriava said in flawless, only slightly accented Alskader, “that we might, perhaps, take a bit of a break from the wedding plans and try to get past this barrier we’ve erected between us. We will, after all, be married within the month.”

  I bolted upright and stared at her. “You’ve had news of the cure?”

  The small muscles in Noriava’s jaw tightened, and her eyes darted to the doorway.

  “For once, could you manage to go a full hour without mentioning the godsdamned poison or its fucking cure?” she snapped. Her cat’s tail flicked back and forth, and its large green eyes glared out from beneath its lowered brows.

  “I would have thought that your interest would at the very least equal my own, given what you have to lose if your scientists fail,” I retorted. “Imagine what Denor could do with a fleet of ships and the ability to seek out new habitable land. Finding a cure is in your best interest, as well as Swinton’s.”

  “I’m not the idiot who drank the stuff in the first place, and you’d do well to remember that you have just as much to lose as I do, if not more.”

  My fingers reflexively tightened around my glass at the implied threat, but I forced myself to relax my grip and set the glass aside as I rose to my feet. “Then I’ll take my leave of you, before one of us says something we might regret.”

  The cat hissed at me, but before I could turn to go, Noriava reached out and took my hand.

  “I’m sorry. You have very little reason to like me, and less still to open up to me.” Her voice wavered, and tears welled in her eyes. “But a marriage between our two nations is a smart choice, Bo, and I’d very much like it if we could at least try to learn to trust one another.”

  “How can you possibly ask me to trust you when all you’ve done is manipulate me and mine, and try to negotiate every ounce of power away from me?” I yanked my hand away from her. “You’ve done nothing to earn my trust.”

  Noriava took a long sip of her wine and studied my face over the rim of her glass. “Before anything else, I’m the queen of Denor. Surely you understand that. I have to take care of my people and their well-being before I can even begin to think of myself. It’s only natural that I’d do my best to secure the most advantageous position for Denor and her people. That’s who I am. That’s what I do.” Her expression turned sad. “It breaks my heart a little to see you so thoroughly committed to that man, that you put aside what is best for your people. You should be there now, fighting for them, for your throne, but instead you wait here like a schoolboy aching to be praised by a distracted professor.”

  Her words echoed my own secret fears, and I stuffed my hands into my pockets to keep her from seeing them shake.

  “Patrise and Lisette told me that they believe in you, in your ability to rule the people of Alskad fairly and well. They told me that our ideas and personalities would align both personally and as rulers, but to be frank, the fact that you’ve so thoroughly exposed your weakness in your love for Swinton gives me great pause.”

  “Your Majesty...” I started, but she cut me off.

  “It isn’t the relationship itself, or even that you intend to maintain it after our marriage, Ambrose. It’s that you are letting it get in the way of your ascent to the throne. So long as you need something from me—need a cure for Swinton—I can take anything I want from you, ask for any power in our negotiation. I know that I have the upper hand.” Noriava shook her head. “It’s no way to rule. It’s irresponsible.”

  I tried to keep the volume of my words low, so that the people in the next room wouldn’t hear me, but my voice still shook with rage. “At the very least, I’m not the one who considered the manufacture and sale of a poison that steals minds, steals lives.”

  Noriava’s expression settled into one of calm disdain. “Once again, my dear, you show yourself to be entirely clueless. Of course I wouldn’t ask my scientists to replicate the poison your temple created. Even if I did ask them to do such a thing, even if I lied to them and told them that the formula was something else, they would surely find the truth in their testing and immediately remove me from my throne. But you believed me, and because you were so gullible, I’ve gotten what I wanted out of you. A marriage contract. One that you cannot easily back out of, unless you want to lose your man and my army.”

  I spun on a heel and stalked toward the door, as much to hide my deepening blush as anything else. I’d fallen so thoroughly into her trap that there was nothing I could possibly do to redeem myself.

  “I can teach you, if you’d let me,” Noriava said, her voice low and so close it startled me. I turned and found myself face-to-face with her. The queen’s expression was somber and oddly kind, something I wasn’t accustomed to seeing in her.

  “Everything I do, I do for Denor,” she said huski
ly. “If we are going to be tied to one another, I hope that you’ll allow me to show you how to be the best ruler you can possibly become. You have it in you—that indefinable quality that makes people want to do as you say. Makes people want to follow you. All you need to do is get past your squeamishness and decide what kind of king you want to become.”

  Noriava took my hand again, and this time, I didn’t pull away. “Will you be a pawn of people like Patrise and Lisette, seeking all of the glory and fame with none of the hard work? Or will you be like Abet and Jax, cut off from the world and isolated by their fear and magic? Now is the time to decide, young Ambrose.”

  “You’re not even five years older than I am,” I growled.

  “Age is nothing but a number,” she said, a sad smile playing across her lips. “I’ve been a queen for more than a decade now. I’ve written laws to protect the rights of my citizens and staved off not one, but two attempts at invasion. I’ve negotiated treaties and funded research. I’ve spent hours reading through security briefings and historical texts to understand the international politics that affect my people. And despite my personal feelings on the matter, I’ve been forced to uphold the convictions of people I deeply loved after they committed human rights violations.”

  Noriava paused for a moment, and I was shocked to see that there were tears in her eyes. I wondered whom she had sacrificed in order to enforce the laws of her kingdom, and for the first time, I began to see past the ruthless, calculating front she’d always presented to me.

  Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “I am a queen first, Ambrose. I am the voice of my people second, and a woman only distantly third. You may not have to make the choices I have made, Ambrose, but you do have to choose. Who will you become?”

  With that, Noriava bent and gathered her cat in her arms before settling herself back on the velvet settee. I sketched a bow and fled back to my room.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Vi

  “I wonder if you’ll recognize the person I’ve become. You met me scarred and terrified. So much has changed since then. I barely recognize myself anymore.”

  —from Vi to Bo

  The Denorian harbormaster didn’t have any idea what to do with the arrival of an unexpected—and enormous—ocean liner stuffed to the brim with tattooed Shriven and grim-faced Ilorian rebels. Captain Whippleston was made to drop anchor outside the harbor itself while the harbormaster fled back across the short, choppy waves to Salemouth, where he might consult the will of the queen.

  When we were eventually allowed to let down a small boat and row toward the towering cliff face and the city that sat atop it, Curlin and I emerged from the cabin we’d shared on the journey, kitted out in the same finery we’d worn to see the governor of Ilor. We found Quill pacing the ship’s deck as Mal looked on with an amused smile.

  “Are you ready?” Quill asked, his voice thin with tension.

  I furrowed my brows at him. “Of course. Whenever Hamlin says we can go.”

  I crossed the deck and leaned against the railing next to Mal. His eyes briefly flicked over to me, and then back to Quill.

  “What’s he so worked up about?” I asked quietly.

  “He’s gone all territorial and paranoid. Thinks the Denorian guard will sweep you up and cart you off to prison the moment you set foot on the shore,” Mal whispered, the barest tickle of a laugh playing through his voice. “But he does have a point. You are fair worthless at keeping yourself in one piece.”

  I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my elbow. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Honestly, Vi,” Mal said, sounding exasperated. “Neither of you have been the same since that battle. It’s like you’re both a breath away from murderous rage all the time.”

  “I’m fine,” I snapped, but the truth in Mal’s words sank like a knife into my gut. Had the smoke affected us?

  Curlin, on the other side of Mal, flicked open a small knife and picked at the dirt under her fingernails. “If you’d been there, Mal, I don’t imagine you’d be calling these two out on their anger so readily.”

  Quill turned a sharp glare on Curlin, and she gave him a sweet smile. “This has nothing to do with Vi—”

  At the same time, I said, “Really, Curlin, it’s like you want—”

  Quill met my eyes, and for the first time since the battle, I felt like I might be able to return his smile. But just then, Captain Hamlin cleared his throat, and everyone turned to him. I heaved a sigh and rolled my head slowly around on my neck, enjoying the release as the vertebra cracked.

  The captain’s face was implacable as he stood by the skiff, which was already over the side and ready to be lowered. “Curlin, Vi and Jihye, with me, if you please,” he instructed. “Quill? Mal? I’d be mightily obliged if you’d take another skiff into town and see what you can do about getting some fresh food, weapons and fabric for new clothes onto the ship. Use however much coin you need.”

  Quill’s eyes narrowed. As I walked past him toward the skiff, his fingers closed around my wrist. Panic surged in my veins, followed quickly by throat-clenching anger. I whirled on him, blazingly furious, free hand on my knife, and yanked my wrist out of his hand. Anger ballooned inside me, filling up all of my empty space and taking over everything else until there was nothing left but red.

  “You’ll not touch me again without my permission,” I snarled. “Do you understand?”

  Quill took a step back, hands raised and mouth wide with surprise. Guilt flooded through me, washing away the fire of my rage. Why had I reacted like that?

  “I didn’t mean any...” His words trailed off, lost in the noise of the crashing waves below.

  “I’m sorry, Quill. I just...” I shook my head, unable to find the right words. “We’ll talk when I get back to the ship with my brother. I promise. But until then, just...please, don’t touch me.”

  With that, I turned away, tears burning in my eyes as I fled from him.

  * * *

  The staircases that led up the sheer cliff faces and into the city of Salemouth were busy. Merchants hawked food and drink from brightly painted carts. Fisherwomen skipped down to the docks with empty baskets and climbed back up carrying loads of lobsters, crabs and glossy scaled fish.

  We traveled in a bubble of silence and gaping stares. Only the white-coated soldiers guarding each landing managed to keep their faces from betraying the blend of fear and fascination that seemed to envelop every other person we passed, and then only barely. But despite the squirming feeling in my stomach each time a person gasped or whispered as I passed, I kept my head up and the muscles in my face relaxed.

  These people, with their safe, stable lives and their warm, comfortable houses, had never been made to fight. Even the soldiers had rarely seen actual hand-to-hand combat. The defenses that surrounded the city, with its high cliffs and towering ring of mountains, had kept even the greediest of the Alskad and Samirian rulers from making any kind of real attempt on the small country.

  I was jealous of their safety. Jealous of the version of me, now lost, that had existed before the battles. Of the straight and easy path their lives took. Of the myriad ways their government stabilized their lives.

  At the top of the cliffs, I looked over the chest-high wall down at the water far below. The docks were all clustered in a single small inlet, and the rest of the harbor gave way to sheer cliffs plunging into the water, so deep it was nearly black. Curlin, careless of her finery, collapsed on a scrap of lawn at the edge of the promenade and groaned, sipping water from her canteen.

  “It’s a long way down,” Jihye said, leaning against the wall next to me and peering over the edge.

  “Scared of heights?” I teased. The breeze tickled the slightly raised edges of the newly tattooed lines on my arm, and I pulled back to stretch against the rail. The air in Denor was damp and smelled of plants and growing things, but in
a different way than Ilor. Here, it was the dark musk of fertile earth and an undercurrent of moss and mushrooms. It was cool, slow growth and secret things hiding in the shade of ancient trees that had somehow survived the cataclysm.

  “I’d not say that I’m scared,” Jihye said, seeming to choose her words carefully. “It’s only that I have an appropriate respect for the ability of a fall from a great height to break a person’s neck. And seeing as how I’ve managed to put myself in a position to risk my neck a dozen different ways this year—and that’s not too likely to change anytime soon—I plan to do my best to keep myself from inviting unnecessary risk whenever possible.”

  “And I’m over here wondering how cold the water is,” I replied.

  Jihye snorted, and Curlin sat up. “If you two are done philosophizing, let’s get on about our business, yeah?”

  “Let’s,” I agreed, grinning. “Bo’s close by. It shouldn’t take long to find him.”

  Jihye pointed behind me. “Were it up to me, I might start looking for a lost king in the palace.”

  Together we made our way through the winding streets and narrow closes toward the black stone palace. Its domes and spires loomed over the city like something a jealous goddess might build in worship of herself. When we finally arrived at the public entrance to the palace, however, we found the portcullis down and a bevy of guards in tight formation outside the gates. The square around us gradually emptied as people noticed our arrival, and in a matter of moments, we were alone with the guards.

  I stepped forward, suddenly realizing that I spoke no Denorian at all. I hoped at least one of them knew a bit of Alskader.

  “I’m here to see Ambrose Trousillion, the king of Alskad. Will you let him know that Obedience Violet Abernathy has arrived?”

  The guards exchanged a series of pointed looks, and from the back, a woman’s voice, high and clear, called in a lilting Denorian accent, “There is no Alskader king here. Go back to the temple, Shriven dogs.”