The Exalted

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  Leaning down to whisper in my ear, Quill said, “If I were a gambling man, I’d say we have just about even odds of seeing Rylain or your Bo on that balcony in a moment, but Mal’d slay me if he knew I’d even joked about playing the odds.”

  “And I’d say Mal’s right to discourage you from trying to be a betting man, for you’ve no eye for it. Say Rylain did manage to throw Bo off somehow,” I speculated. “There’s no way that she’d be careless enough to show her face to a thousand souls calling for Bo. Plus, if you knew anything at all, you’d know there’s not a soul in Penby who’ll bet against an Abernathy and expect to win. Stubborn as barnacles, to a one. And fancy upbringing and Trousillion father or no, Bo’s an Abernathy. Through and through.”

  A low horn sounded on a distant rooftop, joined by one after another until the sound reverberated through the square and sent a hush through the crowd. A woman, her silver-streaked hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the crown of her head, stepped forward, and she raised a long, twisting horn covered in thin gold filigree to the sky. She blew a single clear note and stepped back. I thought I saw something like pride on her thin, lined face, but she was far away, and it could’ve just as easily been my exhaustion as anything else.

  When Bo stepped forward, a cheer rose up through the crowd. His simple, well-cut suit showed not one wrinkle, not one stain, though it was the same thing he’d been wearing when I’d seen him last, days before. His head was bare, and snow clung to his riot of black curls. Swinton stood just behind Bo’s left shoulder, a large wooden box clasped in his arms. Bo raised his hand to wave, and the crowd sent up a wild cheer. When they eventually quieted, Bo’s voice boomed out over the square.

  “People of the Alskad Empire, my beloved subjects. The High Council has heard your call, and my cousin Rylain has relinquished her place on the throne. I stand before you, humbly, to ask your forgiveness. I should not have left you for so long without the comfort of a permanent and rightful ruler.” He bowed his head for a moment, then lifted his gaze to survey his people once again. “In these dark times, I cannot condone the kind of lavish, over-the-top celebration that has accompanied the coronations of my predecessors. To that end, I ask that you stand with me today as I once again reaffirm my vows to you and am crowned.”

  As murmurs of shock rippled through the gathered crowd, pride surged through my veins. Two servants brought a simple chair cushioned with thick furs and set it at the edge of the balcony. Bo sat, and Swinton handed the box to the silver-haired woman who’d blown the horn.

  Bo’s voice rang out over the assembly. “By right of law and the choice of my predecessor, Queen Runa Trousillion, I stand before you—as a twin. As a man of both the royal house of Trousillion and the people of Alskad. And I hereby declare my intention to take my rightful place upon the throne of Alskad.”

  Swinton reached into the box and lifted out a crown. It was not entirely unlike the Crown of Alskad I’d seen as it rumbled by in a glass case all those many years ago, but it certainly was not the same. He handed it to Lisette with a bow.

  The gray gemstones glittered in the sunlight filtering through the softly falling snow as Lisette went to stand before Bo, holding the crown up for the entire square to see.

  “Do you swear to uphold the honor of the Alskad people?”

  Bo raised his chin, his voice booming out over the whole square. “I do.”

  “Will you guide the people of the empire with your conscience, serving them with justice and grace, putting their needs before your own?”

  Bo’s smile was brilliant as I laid a hand on Curlin’s shoulder. She started and then looked back at me, tears in her eyes.

  “We did it,” she whispered.

  Bo’s response came on the tail of her words. “I will.”

  “Will you wear this crown, its weight a reminder of your duty to your people and your country?”

  “I will.”

  “Then swear that you will serve the people of the empire for the rest of your days.”

  Bo put his hands over his heart, and the sleeve of his jacket fell back to reveal the gold cuff on his wrist.

  “I swear on my honor that I will serve the people of the empire for the rest of my days.”

  Lisette lifted the crown to the people gathered in the square, then turned and settled the crown on Bo’s curls. She held out her hand to Bo, and in a high, clear voice said, “Stand, then, King Ambrose Oswin Trousillion Gyllen Abernathy, Emperor of Alskad.”

  The crowd erupted into cheers, and all around me, people called Bo’s name. He went to the rail of the balcony, scanned the crowd, and for a moment, it felt as though his gray eyes met mine. Warmth traveled both ways along our bond, and I relaxed. Bo was king. It would take next to nothing for him to push back against the temple and their frightening hold on the people of Alskad. For the first time in my memory, the odds were no longer stacked overwhelmingly against me.

  Then, at the front of the square, near the balcony where my brother stood, an explosion. A scream. Another. In a wave, people surged back, back, running away from the palace. Away from the square. Away from Bo.

  Fear seized me, but I couldn’t see through the smoke. I touched the pearl in my pocket, seeking comfort. General Okara was bolt upright, her hands on the reins, her eyes focused on the four horses tethered to our wagon. Curlin shot up, staff at the ready.

  I was more prepared when I heard the second explosion. Fire flashed, the horses reared, and I leaped down from the wagon. Focus seemed to pump through my veins, and the pain that had haunted me since my night with Castor in the temple disappeared. Bo was the only thing that mattered, the only thing I could see. I pushed through the crowd, like fighting my way out into the bay through an incoming tide. I heard Quill’s voice behind me, but there wasn’t time to argue, wasn’t time to do anything but find Bo.

  I pressed through the last wall of frightened people and stopped short at the scene in front of me. Bright patches of blood and fire were the only spots of color. Fine stone dust and drifting ash coated everything in a blanket of gray. Bodies lay scattered like fallen rag dolls, their limbs at odd angles. A child’s bright yellow shoe lay next to the crumbled stone where the balcony had collapsed in the first explosion.

  “Vi,” Quill cautioned, but I didn’t have time to listen. Didn’t have time for my stomach to heave or for the crippling memories of the battles I’d fought next to him in Ilor to come surging back. I had to move.

  I forced my eyes up, forced my legs to move, and I scrambled up the collapsed stone and onto the balcony. There were others already there—the Shriven, locked in a furious battle with our people. Hearing a pained grunt, I glanced back and saw Curlin right behind me. Quill moved faster than I could manage and heaved her up onto the balcony with us.

  Then, like three pieces of the same machine, we entered the fray.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Bo

  The first explosion lifted me off my feet and threw me backward, all the way to the palace wall. For a single, dazed moment, my vision dimmed, but the rain of fire and stone that erupted from the second explosion drew me quickly from my stupor. My first coherent thought was for Swinton. I forced myself to my feet as dozens and dozens of the Shriven poured over the ruins of the balcony railing.

  Fear clogging my throat, I yelled his name. “Swinton! Swinton! Where are you?”

  The doors, which had been closed last I remembered, were flung open, and my people, the Vigilant, surrounded me, forming a protective barrier that, while useful, blocked my view almost entirely. My focus came back in slow, wavering gasps, and I realized that the Shriven were fighting their way toward me. These were not the people Vi and Curlin had recruited. These Shriven, with their shorn heads and black paint and slick, silent blades, were the deadly tools of the temple. These were people dosed with just enough of the temple’s poison to quiet the voices of their consciences.


  These people would not stop until I was dead.

  There was a yowl followed by the sounds of a scuffle to my right, next to the door. I wanted to shove through the guards, to find Swinton, to fight, but I couldn’t. I was unarmed, beyond the knife in my boot. I couldn’t promise my people permanency and fair leadership with one breath and risk my life with the next. So I drew my knife, the blade not half as long as my forearm but wickedly sharp, and took up a defensive position by the wall.

  The double row of guards around me moved like water, forcing the Shriven back and back, covering the holes where their comrades fell. All the while, my eyes searched for the bright flag of Swinton’s honey-gold hair, a flash of his coat. Something. Anything.

  The guard around me shifted, and I caught sight of another familiar face. Not Swinton’s, but Vi’s. Her eye was blacked, and a line of ruby blood trickled down her cheek. She sank her knife into one of the Shriven’s bellies with a vicious, practiced ease. Panic tightened around my throat. What the bloody hell was she thinking?

  Before I could wrap my head around it, she was moving again, out of sight. Then the guards parted ever so slightly, and Swinton slipped through their ranks. He tossed me a sword, belt wrapped tight around its sheath. I caught it with my free hand, slid my knife back into my boot and threw my arms around him in the briefest of embraces, searching him for wounds.

  “Sorry it took so long, bully. Bloody lot of these fellows, and they’re all pushed far beyond the bounds of reason.”

  “What the hell happened?” I asked, buckling on the sword belt.

  “They set off some kind of bombs. Two of them at the edges of the balcony. It wouldn’t’ve been half a thing to do, what with all the people and confusion. My guess is that they hoped the bombs would take the whole structure down, kill you and that’s the end of it, but they didn’t go off at the same time, and the first one threw us out of range of the second. Are you injured?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. You?”

  Swinton wiped the blood from his two short swords onto his trousers. “Nothing serious. We need to get you to safety. Can you run?”

  “Vi’s on the balcony. I won’t go without her.”

  A muscle in Swinton’s jaw clenched and released and clenched again. “Vi’s a wicked beast. You’re the king. As soon as you’re safe, I’ll come back for her.”

  Before I could respond, a surprised shout rang up from the guards nearest us. One of the Shriven had rushed the Vigilant, but instead of engaging with them, he vaulted over their heads using his staff. The Shriven aimed his landing with Swinton as he crashed down. The weight of the falling Shriven flattened Swinton to the ground, but before the Shriven could rise, Swinton’s arm was around his neck as fast as a striking serpent.

  “Run!” he shouted.

  Then three more Shriven came sailing over the heads of our guards. And just like that, the pocket of calm they’d provided was absorbed into the fray.

  I heard Vittoria’s voice shouting orders in Denorian over the din of the fight. The air was thick with the shrieking prayers of the Shriven as they fought, low Denorian curses and the screams of the injured and dying. As much as I knew I had to keep myself safe for the sake of my people, there was a voice in my head crying the word coward over and over again. A surge of Vi’s bloodlust and fury boiled through the bond, and my mind was made up.

  Somehow, the fight was louder on the other side of the wall of guards. I saw Vi immediately, whirling around a familiar figure—Claes. My throat tightened. He was trying to kill my sister. He slashed and stabbed at her with a speed and grace that seemed impossible. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see one of the Shriven, all snarling, razor-sharp teeth, black paint and tattoos, streaking toward me. The Shriven’s staff traced a wide arc through the air as it hurtled toward me in what was meant to be a killing blow. I had my sword halfway out of its sheath when the staff slammed to a stop inches in front of my face. It quivered in midair against Vittoria’s still-sheathed sword. The general began to buckle under the force of the maddened Shriven woman bearing down on the staff. I freed my own sword, and my swing bit into her shoulder deeply, showing the white flash of her bone. Immediately, Vittoria began to gain the upper hand, and she growled, “Go.”

  I dashed across the balcony to the edge, where Vi and Curlin were still locked in battle with Claes. I saw Swinton, his swords flying around him like extensions of his arms, meeting one of the Shriven blow for blow. His braid whipped out from behind his head as he turned to catch sight of another assailant flying toward him. Without so much as a blink, he flung one of his swords at his original opponent, and it landed with an unsettling thunk in the man’s chest. Swinton spun on a heel and planted himself to face the onslaught of his new attacker.

  Another Shriven hurled at me, knives flashing, and someone shoved me out of the way. I stumbled, but caught myself, and looked up to see Quill, teeth gritted, straining to hold the Shriven off, even as blood stained his shirt red. He was using every ounce of his strength to protect me, but the blade of the Shriven’s knife kept sinking deeper into his abdomen. I moved to help him, to pull the Shriven off him, but Quill shook his head at me.

  “Go!” he shouted. “Get out of here.”

  Just then, I froze, a feeling like an icicle running down my spine stopping me. Suddenly, the strange mental thread that tied Vi and me together flickered and exploded into something huge and powerful and overwhelming. And just like that, Vi’s voice came surging into my brain.

  I won’t let you kill me, bitch. I won’t leave Bo alone. Not after all this time.

  I shook my head, sure that I’d hit my head in the explosion and was hallucinating, but when I closed my eyes, it was as though I was staring out of someone else’s eyes. Vi’s. It wasn’t perfectly clear, just colors and flashes of images, but in that vision, I saw Amler, the female Suzerain, leering over Vi, and felt hands wrapped around my throat. Vi’s throat.

  A feeling as sure and natural as breathing overtook me, and I knew just where to find Vi struggling for her life against the Suzerain. I turned on a heel and dashed across the ruined balcony. I raised my sword over my head in a double-handed grip, ready to bring it down on Amler’s neck. But just before the blade connected, Amler ducked. The strength of my missed swing staggered me, but, remembering one of Vittoria’s lessons, I used the momentum of my swinging blade to aim a kick at Amler’s ribs. Amler lifted one hand from Vi’s throat and lashed out to grab my ankle without even looking up.

  This can’t be real, I thought, and tried to kick back out of the Suzerain’s iron grip.

  Vi’s eyes were fluttering. I had to get her free of the Suzerain before she lost consciousness. I raised my sword to hack at Amler’s arm when a force like a surging storm washed over me and Vi’s voice slammed into my head.

  Bo! Behind you!

  I dropped instantly to the ground, unquestioning. Amler’s hand was still tight around my ankle. A second later, the deadly snap of a kick whipped over my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut in sudden terror. But the world didn’t disappear, only shifted, and I saw Castor looming over me. Vi must have seen him approaching.

  In a flash of understanding, I realized that the Suzerain must share the same kind of connection. That was how Amler had avoided my initial attacks. An explosion came from somewhere to my right, and Castor looked away. Sensing my opportunity, I swung my sword at Amler’s wrist, her hand still tight around my ankle. Finally, the Suzerain released Vi’s throat and spun to smack the flat of my blade with so much force that it knocked the weapon out of my hand, sending it skittering harmlessly away across the balcony.

  Vi sucked in a breath and sent a booted heel flying into Amler’s jaw. The impact bowled her over and she released my ankle, snarling. Vi rasped a victorious laugh and said, “Reap what you sow, isn’t that—”

  But before she was able to finish, Castor leaped over h
is sister, arm pulled back, aiming a killing blow. Vi rolled to the side just in time, and Castor’s hand slammed into the stone where her chest had just been. The stone split down the middle, and Vi’s eyes flickered over the splintered balcony floor, Castor’s bleeding knuckles, then came to rest on mine. Simultaneously, we both thought the same word. Run!

  Vi sprinted just ahead of me. In my peripheral vision, I saw Amler as she dove for Vi’s legs. Focusing on the new awareness blazing through my senses, I thought, Left! As fast as if it had been her own thought, Vi zigged to the left, and the Suzerain only caught hold of the edge of her coat. Without slowing, Vi spun out of her coat in one motion, and we left the Suzerain behind once more as Amler furiously tossed the coat aside.

  A wild, ululating cry split the air, and I saw Castor spot Curlin as she ran, screaming, toward Amler.

  “Curlin, no!” I screamed, but I was too late. Amler whirled on her heel, and in a single, decisive movement, grabbed Curlin’s head and snapped her neck. I stopped in my tracks, horrified, and in that second, as the battle raged around us, the Suzerain turned in my direction. Amler’s fist rammed into my gut, and I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me.

  A second later, Vi was at my side, a bloody staff clutched in her hands, swinging wildly at the Suzerain. I pulled a short sword from the hand of a fallen guard and came up slashing. The two Suzerain ducked and deflected all of our blows. My muscles were tight with fatigue, but over Amler’s shoulder, I saw Vittoria disengage with her opponent at the same moment Jihye appeared at the edge of the balcony. Taking advantage of my distraction, Castor’s leg whipped around my defenses, his foot cracking against my ribs. I recovered just in time to see Amler wrest the staff away from Vi, and a sense of foreboding filled me.