Shattered Kingdom

by Angelina J. Steffort

  Kyle inclined his head and disappeared the way he did every morning, leaving Gandrett with a couple of seconds before Nehelon was upon her.

  She didn’t draw her sword. It was something Brax had pointed out during their walk in the gardens, that the tighter and flimsier the dresses got, the less of a chance she would have to store a weapon… and it would get harder to retrieve as a sword. So she let Nehelon come toward her, and her hands curled like the claws of a desert lion while she hoped that he would yield his blade instead of cutting her down. From the look on his face, the latter was exactly what he intended to do.

  The first strike hit her on the arm. Too slow to avoid the Fae male’s blow, the flat of his blade made her scream out in pain. Nehelon pulled back, giving her enough time to regroup, then attacked again with a snarl.

  “I thought we were here to train, not for you to kill me,” Gandrett hissed at him as the flat of his blade bit her ribs this time. She panted through the pain. It wasn’t anything new to her. At the priory, pain was the cost of improvement as much as it was of disobedience. A lesson engraved into the skin on her arms, on her back, on her legs in a pattern of thin scars that no one would ever see since no one would ever get close enough to get a good look.

  Nehelon wielded his sword over his head. “Not my problem if you don’t defend yourself.” His eyes were hard diamond, his face cold the way she had memorized it on their journey. There was no pity in his eyes, no curiosity the way she had seen over the past weeks at their training. Only rage—channeled through his muscled arms and the steel of his sword.

  Gandrett swirled to the side and found her balance just before Nehelon struck again. Keep moving, that was what she had to do. Always stay in motion. A moving target was more difficult to hit. So she started dancing through the sand, her feet as light as the wind—the way she had at the priory for the Fest of Blossoms.

  Nehelon halted, sword mid-air, and watched her as if she had gone crazy. “What is that?” he asked, his emotions about as visible on his features as on the flat stone walls behind them.

  Gandrett didn’t stop. “I am not going into the palace of Eedwood as a fighter but as a lady,” she pointed out. “Maybe it’s time I started acting like one.” She put on a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Dance with me, Sir,” she held out a hand, dancing in her spot for a while, letting Nehelon assess her from head to toe.

  “No.” He shook his head, dark hair swinging with the movement, and brought his sword down on her once more.

  But Gandrett was already spinning away,

  What was she doing? Nehelon had fought many opponents, too many, in his hundreds of years, but he had never encountered—well, this.

  Gandrett was dancing. On the training grounds. With little shame over how she swung her hips. And with her ease of movement, she grinned at him. Grinned.

  His sword missed. Once, twice, thrice. And still, Gandrett grinned. And danced as if she were in a trance, strands of hair coming loose from her braid, flying around her head as she spun.

  What had Brax done to her?

  When he had returned from exercising down here the night before, he had spied Brax and Gandrett, still in the garden, talking. He had observed them from afar, letting himself believe he was just watching out for Lord Tyrem’s heir just in case they never got back Joshua.

  Brax had returned her to her chambers like a gentleman. He had kissed her hand the way Nehelon had seen him do with every other woman in court. The fury had lingered through the night, had woken him early this morning. What was it about Brax Brenheran that she found pleasure in spending time with him—worse, talking to him? She didn’t talk to Nehelon. Didn’t smile at him. Didn’t laugh in his presence. Only now, that frantic grin that reminded him of the ceremonies of the Order of Vala. Of those brief years at the priory in Everrun. That grin wasn’t for him—

  He swung his sword anew, fighting his anger rather than the dancing girl before him. And once more, he let himself miss. Couldn’t bring himself to strike the untamed beauty before him.

  And it hit him. That he had let his blade touch her, that he hadn’t held back his Fae strength when he had brought down the flat of his blade on her arms, on her thigh.

  She hadn’t yielded. Hadn’t reached for her own sword. Had screamed, yes. And he had mercilessly struck again. What had he done?

  As he lowered the tip of his sword into the sand, Gandrett swirled right in front of him and flashed her teeth before her fist connected with his throat, sending him staggering back. Her boot followed only moments later, bringing him down. And when she straddled him, his arms tucked tightly to his sides between her knees, that grin was real.

  Mckenzie couldn’t stop laughing when Gandrett shared the news of what had happened. Of course, Gandrett had left out the details of her own bruises. Nehelon hadn’t just struck her with the blade. He had battered it down with all his strength—his real strength, not the subdued, human-like version of his strikes.

  “No wonder he is going up against you every day,” Mckenzie roared with laughter. “He is a sore loser.”

  So far, Gandrett had done a good job avoiding the topic of Nehelon during her lessons with Mckenzie. She had seen the explosiveness when both of them were in the same room and wasn’t certain if she knew the reason it would help any of them.

  “You should have seen his face.” Gandrett herself chuckled. A sound that she was getting used to. Even if most of the times it was the fake laugh of a delighted woman intending to earn the attention of a man. She had practiced that on Brax in the gardens. Had hardly listened to anything he’d said, her mind too occupied with the scent of blossoms, the buzz of insects, the lush grass under her feet. And then, there was the nervousness that rose whenever Brax smiled at her with that sensuous mouth. That used up part of her resources, too.

  She cringed as she sat down at the table and rested her hands at its carved edge. Eugina had brought lunch earlier: fish and a small bowl of stew. Gandrett had gotten used to fish enough to not gag at every bite, and Eugina seemed to feel safe with reducing the amount of stew, day by day. It helped that Mckenzie kept her company during her meals—even when it was mostly to correct her way of eating, of drinking, of sitting, of using her napkin, of basically everything Gandrett did.

  There was a small, shiny box sitting beside the tray full of empty dishes today. Gandrett had noticed it earlier but… after this morning’s events, had been too upset to find herself interested enough to take a look.

  Now that her stomach was filled, her anger at the male subsided, and she was curious enough to pick it up.

  The lid came off easily, exposing an assortment of chocolates. Gandrett’s stomach tightened with excitement and sadness all at once as she lifted the box to her face and inhaled the smell. The last time she had tasted chocolate was the last Midsummer Solstice before she’d been brought to the priory. Her parents had afforded a piece for each of them for the celebrations in honor of Nyssa, the goddess of love.

  “Who is it from?” Mckenzie wanted to know, her emerald eyes peering past the chocolates at the folded piece of parchment that was tucked in-between the box and a rose-petal-sprinkled chocolate.

  Gandrett at first didn’t understand, but when she found Mckenzie’s eyes, the mischievousness was enough to understand she thought it was from a man.

  “Who would send me chocolate?” she asked casually, suppressing any emotion that would send her down that path of happy memories—bittersweet memories.

  “The question is: who wouldn’t?” Mckenzie positively glowed with curiosity. Gandrett’s palms turned sweaty. “Haven’t you noticed how they all look at you?” Gandrett didn’t fail to hear a certain jealousy ring in the young woman’s voice.

  She had noticed their gazes when she crossed the hallways in her fighting leathers every morning and returned sweaty and dirty before noon. She had never given it much thought. As for the rare occasions that she left her chambers in something that informed the world she was a woman, the glance
s were more obvious but nothing that she wasn’t used to. People had stared at her in Everrun for the sole reason that she was their top fighter. The admiration in their eyes was for the level of skill Vala had allowed her to achieve and nothing else.

  Here, in this palace, it seemed Vala was not as omnipresent as at the priory. Not every step taken was to serve her, not every breath taken in her honor.

  “If you don’t look, I will,” Mckenzie threatened with a giggle.

  “No,” Gandrett held up a hand, keeping her from reaching over, then took the note from the box and opened it.

  The handwriting was elegant and reminded Gandrett of the spires of the palace. I would have stolen a kiss last night, but I didn’t want to upset Vala.

  All air left her lungs as she read the message again. And again.

  “Who is it?” Mckenzie pushed and plucked the note from Gandrett’s hands with swift fingers.

  And gaped at what she found.

  “What did you do to my brother?” Mckenzie asked, beaming.

  Gandrett’s cheeks went hot. Brax. “Nothing.”

  The look on Mckenzie’s face made clear she didn’t believe it.

  “You wicked creature charmed Brax,” she claimed and leaned back in her chair, fair hair bouncing along on her shoulders.

  Gandrett wanted to sink into her own chair. Better to have the ground open beneath her feet and swallow her. “All I did was follow your advice, smile, nod, laugh at the bad jokes.” And secretly ogle at his handsome face.

  Mckenzie laughed. “Brax never sends chocolate,” she informed Gandrett. “With all his various women, he avoids sending anything at all.”

  Gandrett ignored that feeling of horror and excitement that rose with Mckenzie’s depiction of Brax Brenheran. Instead, she thought of that moment Brax had bid her goodnight, one hand behind his back, the other reaching for hers. The warmth of his breath on her skin when he’d indicated a kiss on the back of her hand.

  She retrieved the note from Mckenzie and placed it on top of the chocolates before she closed the box and stored it in the small bedside table. She didn’t know how long it would take until she returned to her family, but she knew she would bring them chocolate when she did.

  It took several days to be able to look Brax in the eye without blushing. The young man, however, never mentioned their conversation from the walk in the park—nor the chocolates or note, for that matter. In the meantime, most of Gandrett’s days consisted of training with Nehelon and lady-lessons with Mckenzie, who was becoming somewhat of a friend, if she could call anyone in this court such. After all, Lord Tyrem had bought her like a slave for that mission.

  “You are not paying attention.” Mckenzie nudged her elbow. “One step forward and one back. Spin and sideward to the left.” She spoke in the rhythm of the music performed by two musicians in the corner of the room. “How can you fight like a goddess but trip over your own feet when you dance?”

  Gandrett struggled to follow Mckenzie’s instructions, the woman’s fair hair flying as she spun, too preoccupied with the music filling the room. It touched her heart on a level she had believed she’d left behind at her parents’ farm. The sound of Sives’s folk-music. “Probably because I never learned to dance.” She set one unstable step to the side, then another. “I wasn’t aware they played this type of music at court.”

  Mckenzie eyed her through the arch of her raised arms. “It’s the one thing both courts have in common. The music of Sives. The music that dates back before the kingdom was torn apart.”

  Gandrett turned slowly, avoiding the yearning to fall into the frenzy of Vala’s dance of life. The dance she had performed in Nehelon’s training grounds. She suppressed a chuckle. He had avoided speaking to her since that day. Just the necessary orders at training, some instructions concerning when and where to meet the next day, his eyes cautious for once as if he didn’t want her to act like that again. Besides the bruises that were almost healed, it had earned her some space from the unpredictable Fae male.

  “The houses of Sives don’t forget their history,” Mckenzie explained, oblivious to Gandrett’s train of thoughts. “They don’t forget that these lands once had one strong king who ruled over all of Sives, from Ackwood to Ithrylan, in peace. The music speaks of those times.” She hopped from one foot to the other.

  “And each of the houses still believes that one day they will rule over all of Sives,” Brax finished her sentence from the threshold where he had joined them unnoticed.

  Gandrett stopped her attempts and watched him saunter to his twin sister, whose hand he took, leading her in a small circle until she faced him. “Let’s show Miss Brayton how it’s done.” He flashed Gandrett a smile over his shoulder, shook a stray strand of hair from his forehead, and led Mckenzie in curved lines and hops through the room.

  Gandrett observed, shamed by her lack of skill, and focused on Mckenzie’s feet rather than Brax’s eyes, which he kept on her as he danced as gracefully as he walked. She had spent three weeks at the palace in Ackwood, and as she watched them, she didn’t feel any closer to passing for a lady than the day she’d arrived. Maybe it was that no one told her when she would make her journey to Eedwood or how she would get to meet Armand Denderlain, but she felt afloat in the strangeness of this court-life where people chit-chatted over fish-delicacies and danced just for pleasure. It was a life that she had never known, would never fully understand when all she had learned was that pleasure is something for lords and kings, and she was a servant of the goddess.

  So her feet remained still while the others danced.

  Nehelon heard the music first then the multiple voices coming from the small dining hall. He had been on his way from his daily meeting with Lord Tyrem where he had reassured the man and Lady Crystal that Gandrett was making good progress. He had even brought up that he’d observed her in her interaction with Brax and that from afar, she had appeared as ladylike as any other lady here at court.

  Lord Tyrem and Lady Crystal had agreed that it was time to act soon; every day lost was a day too many. Nehelon didn’t mention that he had taken his time testing Gandrett’s fighting skills, reassuring himself that whatever happened, she would walk away from Denderlain and live. That he had hoped by now she would have shown signs of magic—and not the silly games of the water mages of Everrun, but magic. Real magic like his. Every day he procrastinated, the mission was a day lost for Joshua Brenheran while it was one day won for Nehelon to find out if he had been right about her.

  So he followed the music, knowing whom he would find at the source, and prepared himself to tell Gandrett that by the end of the week, she would be dancing with Armand Denderlain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Lady Crystal Brenheran summoned her, Gandrett wasn’t sure what to make of it. She hadn’t seen the lord or the lady who had bought her to retrieve their abducted son since that first day at Ackwood. Now that she was standing before Lady Brenheran, it was hard not to see the similarities with Mckenzie.

  Fair hair the same shade as Mckenzie’s; emerald eyes, even if the lady’s weren’t sparkling like the young woman’s, but troubled. Her burgundy dress made a stark contrast with the fair skin above the neckline. Bulky necklaces of gold wound around her throat, making Gandrett wonder if the weight of them wasn’t throttling her.

  “You asked for my presence,” Gandrett curtseyed—something she had mastered through countless hours in front of the mirror, staring at her new self—the mask she was wearing from head to toe. The mask of a lady.

  Lady Brenheran gestured for her to step closer but remained seated on the sofa by the window, a book in her hand.

  “Nehelon has reported progress on your…” She searched for words. “Well, the new you.” Her slender, gloved hand gestured at Gandrett in general.

  Gandrett once more felt like a prize pony. “And has he spoken true?” she asked, keeping her voice the melody she had adopted from Mckenzie—light, charming, without any sign of the constant inner debate
whether all of it would buy her a chance of getting Armand to talk if her sword or a pointed dagger wouldn’t be the wiser option. As for now, she held her tongue, smiled like a lady, and took a step closer, turning slightly to the sides to give Lady Crystal a clear view of how confidently she was wearing the moss-green gown Mckenzie had picked out for her.

  Lady Crystal got to her feet, eyes on Gandrett, seemingly making up her own mind about what she saw.

  “My son Brax informed me you have mastered the basics of the dances popular in Sives’s courts.”

  Is that so? Gandrett cocked her head.

  “Most certainly he praises your gracefulness.” The lady spoke as if that surprised her.

  Gandrett suppressed a chuckle. Over the past days, she had made progress under Mckenzie’s and Brax’s guidance, but it was nothing near what she needed to pass as someone from a good household, worthy of the attention of a lord’s heir.

  “You may never join the royal ballet of Khila,” Lady Crystal walked around Gandrett in a circle, her eyes assessing, measuring, probing, “but you can always fake a sore ankle if someone asks you to dance.”

  As with so many things, Gandrett had never heard about the royal ballet of Khila even when Khila, the capital of the southernmost territory, Phornes, was famous for its music and dancing. “My dance is with the blades.” Her hand reached for her absent sword in reflex. And Lady Crystal smiled.

  “It most certainly is.” She stopped in front of Gandrett. “I have been watching your training with the chancellor. He is the best fighter I know—used to be.” Her gaze wandered to where Gandrett’s hand was still clutching thin air. “Until he brought you back. It gave me hope, seeing someone as delicate as you bring down mountains of men.” Something bitter lingered in the air between them. “And you have the help of the goddess herself, the justice of Vala at your side.”