The Offering

by Kimberly Derting

  The walls and the floors were unfinished mostly, but there was a small table, just about Angelina’s size, and I couldn’t help wondering how Eden had managed to sit at it. I imagined the tall woman scrunched up in one of the undersize chairs, with her legs bent and her back hunched over as Angelina chatted and clucked over her.

  There were more ladders inside the fortress as well—boards, really—hammered into the enormous tree trunk in its center that led to another level, creating a small loft above us. Surrounded by more small chairs, there was a rug made from some sort of furry pelt. There were plates and cups, and drawings stuck to the walls, and the outline of a checkerboard that I recognized as a miniaturized court for playing Princes and Pawns. This last item had been carved into the floorboards.

  “Wow,” I breathed, more impressed than I should have been. I was suddenly envious of her hideaway and couldn’t help wishing that my place were like this—hidden among the trees. Away from the palace walls.

  Glancing her way again, I saw that her eyes were shining, and I saw her reach for something that was hidden behind her back. When her hand emerged, she was clutching Muffin, and she placed the threadbare rag doll tentatively on her lap. I felt a lump stick in my throat.

  The last time I’d seen Muffin, the doll had been covered in blood that I’d thought surely had belonged to Angelina. Muffin looked no less tattered today than she had when I’d first given her to my sister, a hand-me-down from my own childhood.

  I grinned at the both of them, wondering how in the world I was ever going to leave them. “I wasn’t sure you even had her anymore,” I whispered.

  Angelina eyed me doubtfully. “I’m never getting rid of her,” she stated matter-of-factly. “She’s my best friend.”

  Again I was so sorry for my sister. I wanted her to have real friends. Ones she could run and jump and laugh with, not just a beat-up rag doll she had to do all of the talking for.

  “Angelina—” I started, but she interrupted me.

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Her blue eyes cut through me like no one else’s, and not for the first time I had to ask myself just how far her powers of observation extended. Angelina had always had the ability to know who could and could not be trusted. It was how she’d known that Sabara had remained inside me, that it was no longer just me anymore.

  But this . . .

  How could she know what I’d planned?

  “Why would you say that?” I tried not to fidget, but her words made it difficult. Suddenly the floor felt too hard beneath me, the walls too close for comfort.

  She cocked her head—it was such an Angelina thing to do, that simple gesture. So familiar that the lump in my throat grew larger. I’d missed her so much over the past months. I’d longed so many times to grab her up and squeeze her in my arms. To hold her and never let her go.

  Yet here I was, trying to tell her farewell without revealing my plans.

  “You . . .” She hesitated, pinching her tiny lips into a puckered flower as she concentrated, searching for the exact right words. “You just have that look. A good-bye look.” She frowned, her lower lip jutting out now. “I . . . don’t like it, Charlie.”

  A tiny gasp escaped my lips when I heard her utter my name. The last thing I wanted was to hurt my little sister. Not again. Not ever, ever again.

  But here I was, preparing to lie to her too. To tell her that I had no intention of abandoning her.

  I opened my mouth to do that very thing, to insist she was wrong, that I would never, ever leave her, but nothing came out. Instead I nodded.

  “You can’t tell,” I told her. “Not anyone.” I reached across and my hands closed over hers, my heart soaring when she didn’t try to stop me. “But I have to go. I can’t explain why, but it’s important, and it’s a secret. Do you understand?”

  She knew I was telling her the truth, and she nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “Am I going to have to be queen?”

  I blinked once, and then more furiously, understanding full well the implication of her question. She was asking if I was coming back. She wanted to know if she’d be taking my place on the throne.

  If she would ever see her sister again.

  I tightened my hold on her hand, frowning as I bit my lip to keep from falling apart completely. “I don’t know, Angelina. I’m going to try my very best to make it home. I’m taking Eden with me, and Eden’s tough. She’ll protect me. You know she will.” I wished I could promise her more, that I could guarantee the outcome. “But I promise you this, I will do whatever I have to do. No matter what. I’m going to do everything in my power to make it back to you.” I flinched at my own use of the word “power,” worrying that it would serve as a reminder to Angelina of what—who —I was. That Sabara still resided within me.

  Instead she considered my vow, and then nodded again, looking so much younger and so much more vulnerable than she had when I’d first climbed inside her tree house hideaway just a few minutes earlier. She crossed the space between us, and she and Muffin settled onto my lap. After a moment I felt her shudder, and then she asked, “Will you take care of her?”

  The question took me by surprise. “Who? Eden?”

  Angelina nodded, and I wondered if she was the one fighting tears now. I knew how close the two of them had grown over the past few months, and I knew Angelina would miss her guardian.

  I sighed and settled my chin on the top of her head, flyaway hairs tickling my lips and nose. “Of course I will. I’ll do my very, very best to keep her safe.” But even as I said the words, I felt silly. Eden didn’t need my protection. I was the one who needed her.

  Angelina nodded again, accepting my word, and we sat there like that, in total silence for so long that the sky began to darken around us. I had just hours remaining before Eden and I would be gone. I inhaled the childhood scent of grass and dirt that seemed to cling to Angelina, and relished the feel of her warm body cocooned within the circle of mine. And even when my arms and legs cramped, I didn’t move.

  It wasn’t until Zafir attempted to ascend the swaying rope ladder that either of us stirred.

  Angelina glanced up at me from her spot in my lap. “Is he gonna be nice to me?”

  A shiver ran down the length of my spine at the fact that she already knew he’d be taking Eden’s place as her guard. But I smiled at the idea of Zafir trying to carry on a conversation with a five-year-old.

  His head appeared through the opening and he glared at me. “Are you about finished, Your Majesty?”

  Angelina untangled herself from me and crawled over to him, her gaze level with his. “Are you getting cranky, Zafir? Maybe you’re hungry?”

  His eyes widened as he stared back at Angelina, his expression changing from shock to confusion to . . . something else. Something I almost swore was wry amusement. “No, Your Highness. I’m not hungry,” he intoned, more quietly for her benefit. “Just . . . impatient.”

  Angelina turned back to me, her childlike concern taking over—as if she were fawning over a puppy or an injured bird. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to explain the situation to me. “We should get him a snack. He prob’ly needs a snack.”

  I raised my brows at Zafir, trying not to giggle at the thought of this massive giant of a guard watching over my waif of a sister. Or rather, of her watching and fussing over him.

  “Yes, Zafir. I think Angelina’s right. I think a snack might do you good.”

  “Charlie.” The sound of Brook saying my name sent prickles of foreboding over my skin. My emotions, after seeing Angelina, were far too close to the surface, and I worried that I might somehow give myself and my plans with Eden away if I had to face Brook now.

  I stopped but didn’t turn to her immediately. Instead I gave the new guard, a man who just hours earlier had been temporarily in charge of my sister, the signal to give us some privacy. He didn’t leave us, but he pivoted away, affording us some confidentiality at least.

  If it had been Zafir, I might not have even
gotten that much. I had Angelina to thank for that, since she’d insisted on dragging Zafir to the kitchens to find him a biscuit or some sliced fruit, believing it was his empty stomach that made his scowl so ferocious.

  I’d merely winked at him when he’d tried to protest, and had allowed him to be taken hostage by the five-year-old. They’d be fine together, the two of them, and I felt certain I’d made the right decision to entrust her to him.

  “Look,” Brook breathed impatiently behind my back. “I get why you’re mad at me,” she said, misreading my reason for not turning toward her. “And I—I probably deserve it. I’ve been . . .” She hesitated again, and I was taken off guard. It was unlike Brook to be so unsure of herself. The Brook I knew was confident and brazen, definitely not prone to stammering.

  I craned my neck to see what had her all twisted up.

  Her dark eyes were clouded, her delicate black brows furrowed into a tight bunch. “I’ve been confused. Ever since . . . well, since my father died.” She frowned even harder when she said the word “died,” as if he’d keeled over from natural causes. As if he hadn’t been murdered by my hand. “It’s not that I loved him, or even that I miss him, exactly. But . . .” Biting her lip, she paused, and I could read every bit of the confusion she’d just professed to.

  I knew all this, of course. Brook’s dad had been the reason she’d had no qualms about taking up with the resistance. He hadn’t made her feel welcome at home, and Xander and his followers had given her a place to fit in. Taking up weapons had given her the opportunity to take out some of her aggression.

  She scowled at me, and I waited for her to say something else. She opened her mouth, more than once, and closed it time and again, as if she were at a loss, as if she wanted to keep going but didn’t know how.

  After a few minutes Brook sighed, straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat, and I realized our brief respite was over. “I have a message ready to go with word for the troops I have positioned near the border of Astonia. I can have them deployed and on their way to Queen Elena’s palace within hours of receiving my command.” She didn’t have to explain the geography again. She’d already spent hours with me and Max and countless ambassadors and generals pouring over the maps, and outlining where her forces were amassed and awaiting her order. I’d been so busy on the communications project that I hadn’t realized how serious she’d been about preparing for war. The very idea that we were so close to setting things into motion terrified me. “All you have to do is give me the go-ahead.” Her dark eyes studied me closely, and I felt myself withering beneath the scrutiny.

  “I—I just need more time. To figure things out,” I stammered.

  “What things? There’s nothing to think about. Queen Elena has made her intentions clear. We saw what she did to Xander, and you said it yourself—she has no interest in negotiating.” She cocked her head. “Unless there’s something else, something you’re not telling me.”

  “I’m still your queen!” I shouted the words, drawing the guard’s attention and Brook’s as well.

  Her eyes went wide as her gaze moved nervously to the guard, who took a hesitant step toward us.

  I shook my head at him, my heart tripping over itself inside my chest. He fell back, and I turned to Brook, taking a breath and softening my tone, finding my own voice again. “I’m sorry,” I said, hating how many times I’d had to say that recently, all because of Sabara. “But what more could there be?”

  Brook exhaled as she considered my words, and my apology. She pursed her lips, trying to decide whether or not to believe me. My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest, and my mouth went dry. After several long moments she finally nodded. “Don’t take too long. I don’t imagine Queen Elena will waver, and it would be better for the war to start on Astonian soil than on ours.”

  I tried to imagine how either was acceptable, but simply dipped my head in return. Brook took the gesture as my promise to get back to her about whether I would consent to starting a war with Astonia.

  She spun on her heel, and I watched longingly as she paced away from me, and I wished we could start this whole conversation over. Wished we could go back to talking about her father so I could tell her, again, how sorry I was. Wished I could tell her everything about the message from Elena, and how I felt myself getting lost in Sabara. But I was unwilling to let Brook get caught up in my plan to save myself.

  I pressed my hand to the wood, feeling for something, although I wasn’t sure what that something was. The guard in the hallway ignored me; they were accustomed to my nighttime escapades. I was a restless sleeper, with Sabara waking me, and keeping me up, far too often. I’d become an unofficial member of the night watch.

  Straining, I tried to sense Max somewhere on the other side of the door, to hear him maybe. But I was certain he was already sleeping, as was most everyone at this hour. I leaned my cheek against the cool barrier that separated us, wishing I could say a proper good-bye—the way I had with Angelina.

  But Max was different. Max would try to stop me.

  A part of me wanted him to; stopping was the logical course of action, because what I was doing—me and Eden—it was crazy. Even I knew as much. But that other part of me, the part that could no longer bear sharing myself with Sabara . . .

  It was worth the risk.

  But this was huge, the chance I was taking. It wasn’t just my life, or Eden’s or Sabara’s lives on the line here. I was about to abandon my throne. I was leaving my country at a time when everything was topsy-turvy. That’s how it would seem at least, to those who didn’t understand that I was doing this not just for me but for them as well. Those who didn’t understand that my actions might be able to save everyone.

  If I stayed, I feared I’d become so enmeshed with Sabara that soon there’d be no distinction as to where one of us started and the other ended.

  Still, if I didn’t trust those I was leaving behind, I might never take the risk. But I did trust them. Max could handle things here, as could Brooklynn, and Zafir and Claude and my parents. Even Aron, when he returned, had learned a lot, and could manage the engineers and the communications’ installations on his own.

  I could count on them to make the right choices for Ludania.

  I only hoped Max would forgive me when I returned. Or, more to the point, if I returned. And if I didn’t, I prayed that Max would be okay, and that he wouldn’t seek retribution against the other queen, the one who’d summoned me with promises I hoped she could keep.

  Things might have been different if I could have changed the past. If I could have gone back in time and commanded Xander to stay in Ludania in the first place, rather than travel with Niko to Astonia to try to forge peace with Elena. I should’ve known not to trust her, and now here I was, leaving Max all alone.

  My fingers curled into a fist, and I ran it over the door, exercising all my restraint to keep from going inside and climbing into his bed and staying there until morning. Eden and the whole plan be damned.

  But I wouldn’t do that, because of the message Elena had delivered.

  The message that implied there was a way out of my predicament.

  v

  I jumped when my door opened, and even though I’d been expecting her, seeing her standing there left me speechless.

  Sensing her mood was even more amazing.

  Eden was electric.

  It was like I was standing in the middle of a lightning field, and the best I could hope was that I wouldn’t be struck by a stray bolt coming off her.

  She no longer looked like the same Eden I’d gone to see just one night ago, the same woman who before that had been shivering and screaming and dripping with sweat when I’d watched my little sister creep into her cramped, utilitarian room to calm her.

  She’d shorn her hair, and now half of it, on one side of her head, was cut all the way to her scalp, nearly shaved off. It was only somewhat longer, and spikier, around the top, the way it had been when I’d first e
ncountered her, and then it fell to her chin on the other side. It was a lopsided style, but it was severe and made her look fierce. Like a soldier. Like the old Eden.

  And it was purple now too.

  Not exactly what I’d call inconspicuous, I couldn’t help thinking. But I trusted Eden, so I didn’t give voice to those doubts. She knew what she was doing. It was why I’d gone to her in the first place.

  “It’s time,” she thundered, not bothering to ask if I was ready or if we were still doing this, simply stating that we were leaving.

  “What about the guard? The one outside the door?” I whispered, my voice shades lower than her own had been.

  “Already taken care of.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant, “Taken care of.” But again I put my faith in her. I grabbed the small bag I’d packed, a worn knapsack I’d brought with me when I’d first come to the palace, one that had belonged to me long before I’d been queen, when I’d been just another student in the Vendor’s school. I’d packed only a few items, clothing meant to keep me warm, things I could travel in. I reached for the cloak Eden had insisted I wear, to cover my incessant glow.

  It wasn’t until we were leaving my room, and I practically fell over a man’s prone legs, that I understood what Eden had meant about the guard.

  I stared at the poor man, my eyes wide. “What? Is this what you meant?” I searched Eden. Her expression was stern and impassive, as she seemed to be oblivious to the man lying, unconscious, at our feet. She frowned as she waited for me to gather my wits and put together a complete sentence. “What did you do to him?” I finally managed.

  She made a face at me, not one that said she was concerned for the guard’s well-being or remorseful for what she’d done, but one that made it clear that she took umbrage at my daring to question her methods. “What did you think? That I’d tell him our plans and he’d just step aside and let us get away scot-free? Surely you knew there’d be casualties in this little operation of yours, Your Majesty.”