Wardens of Archos

by Sarina Langer

  The demon mustn’t reach her. She was dead if its dark wisps laced around her skin.

  Rachael backed away, but met the wall and open window. There was a ledge right behind her, but it was a deep fall from there. Escaping that way was no option.

  An impossible hand made of mist reached for her, and touched her cheek before she could move away. Heat spread on her skin where the finger had touched her, leaving a burning cut in its wake. The darkness engulfed her. There was nowhere to run, nowhere she could escape to now. No matter which direction she chose, she would move closer to the demon.

  But she had to try. If she stayed put, she was dead. If she moved, she had a chance.

  Desperate to get away she jumped to the right, forgetting for a moment there was no room on either side. She bumped into her bedside table, and cursed. The movement knocked over the still-lit candle. It rolled over the edge onto the floor, and set fire to her bedsheets. The monster hissed.

  The door to her chambers flew open, and the demon disappeared with another angry hiss. Lon fell inside.

  “Are you all right? I heard a noise.”

  His eyes widened when he found the fire, which was climbing up the wooden frame. Lon grabbed the thick spare blanket at the end of her bed and threw it over the flames to suffocate them.

  “What happened?”

  Rachael swallowed. Now that the door to her room stood open and more light seeped in, she felt childish. She hadn’t jumped at a shadow in ages. The shadows of Blackrock had been familiar, her only home. Rachael hadn’t feared them but had used them to her advantage. The shadows here were foreign and new. Her room alone felt cavernous, and she struggled to get used to her new surroundings. The nightmare had spooked her and put her on edge. That was all it was.

  “I thought there was someone in the room.” She felt stupid saying the words out loud, and even more so when she couldn’t make herself believe them. The demon couldn’t have been here with her. Why would it have left? Lon was a capable fighter, but no human being could scare off a creature like that.

  “Did they hurt you?” Rachael shook her head. “What happened to your face? You’re bleeding.”

  Her blood ran cold. She tested her skin with one finger, and flinched. Now that the shock was wearing off, her cheek pulsed with heat. Her whole face felt like it had been set on fire.

  If the cut was real, then she hadn’t imagined the intruder. The demon had come for her. It had nearly succeeded.

  Rachael fought a wave of nausea. The shadows could find her again. The sooner she closed the prison and got rid of the creatures, the better.

  “Sit down,” said Lon. “I’ll get someone who can clean the wound, and I’ll let Kiana know what happened. I’ll be right back.”

  Rachael hugged herself. She didn’t want to be alone. Not too long ago she’d found comfort in solitude, but her life had been turned upside down since then. Nothing was the same anymore, and that meant she’d made enemies, too. In Blackrock, people would never have been able to sneak up on her. She’d been able to fight back with her own two hands. How was she supposed to fight a monster made of shadows?

  She’d thought killing King Aeric was the end of it, that ruling a kingdom that had wanted her dead would be her biggest challenge.

  But worse things than a tired king waited in the dark.

  Rachael breathed in the thick smell of hay and horses. Since ascending to the throne, she’d taken refuge in the stables. The stable hands didn't pay any attention to her or whisper behind her back. In fact, Rachael had offered to help tend the horses, and the stable hands accepted. She spent each rare moment of spare time there.

  The warmth in the horses' eyes comforted her and chased the lingering shivers of her nightmares away.

  There hadn't been time to ride Kaori, but Rachael still liked to spend time with the Midokan Dosanko. Kaori shared a space with Shelbie, Cephy's Appaloosa. Both horses had been gifts from Cale when he rescued them from Aeron.

  The stable workers said horses were clever animals. Did Shelbie know Cephy wasn't coming back? Did the animal mourn her loss as much as Rachael did? Since there was no one else to look after Shelbie now, Rachael had made a habit of bringing extra sugar cubes. Kaori whinnied in thanks, and Shelbie gently nudged Rachael's arm in appreciation. Perhaps Rachael could find a new owner for Shelbie. The Appaloosa was a stunning animal, fast and strong; it was a shame she didn't have an owner now.

  Barnaby stuck her nose out of her stall adjacent to Kaori, and huffed at Rachael. At least Cale’s horse was still happy to see her.

  "I'll get to you in a moment, Barnaby. Be patient."

  Rachael missed Cale more than she'd ever believed possible. Why had he distanced himself? The Sparrows were the private army of Rifarne's ruler, but he’d already protected her before she defeated late King Aeric. They’d known this would happen; her taking the crown and becoming Rifarne's first gifted ruler in centuries was the reason he’d come for her in the first place. She didn't see why things had to be so awkward between them. Did he not feel it was appropriate to talk to her now, or was something else going on?

  Rachael brushed Kaori's coat and moved on to Barnaby.

  “Does he still come to see you?”

  A small, buried part of her hoped she'd run into Cale here, but she hadn't seen him since she started visiting the stables. Cale loved his horse; Rachael couldn't imagine he'd ignore her, too. Unless he was going out of his way to stay out of hers. The thought hurt more than Rachael wanted to admit.

  Barnaby neighed in response.

  “Here, I brought you a treat.” Rachael offered Barnaby a sugar cube on her open palm and smiled in earnest when the mare slobbered it up.

  Out of the corner of her eye, something moved. Rachael didn't dare hope. She turned her head, and when she recognised his silhouette her stomach became a nervous twist.

  Cale stood only a few feet away. Closer than he’d done in weeks.

  “My lady.” He bowed his head and clutched his fist to his heart. The generic salute of the White Guard—that was all he gave her. "I'll come back later.”

  She couldn't let him leave. Not when he was right there. Not when she wanted to slap him for the false respect he forced on her.

  Not when she wanted to hug him and not let go until they’d worked through whatever stood between them.

  “Wait.” She wiped her hand on her trousers. “Are you all right?”

  He shrugged. “As much as I can be.”

  “I'm sorry about Ailis. She deserved better.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  He couldn't even look at her. Only two months ago, he’d smiled at her every chance he got. Despite all the harsh lessons life on the street had taught her, he made her feel like she didn't have to survive on her own. And now he couldn't meet her eyes. Didn’t he see the cut on her cheek? Healer Thea had done her best and they had covered it up, but Cale was observant. She didn’t believe he’d missed it.

  She hated how short he was with her, like he couldn't wait to get away from her. If her being queen meant he couldn't spend time with her, she didn't want the throne. She’d never wanted the damned thing in the first place; this had been his idea. There had to be plenty of people better suited to it than her.

  “If this is about me being crowned in a few hours—”

  “I should see to the Sparrows, my lady. Please excuse me.”

  "Cale." She could order him to explain himself. To smile at her like he had when he trained her with a wooden sword behind his house. But that wasn't the kind of queen she wanted to be, and so she didn't say anything of the sort.

  He stopped, but didn't turn around. Was it this painful for him to look at her? How had they got here?

  "Don't leave." Once, she would have hated how weak she sounded in that moment. Right now, she didn't care.

  "Please, Rachael."

  Hearing him say her name made her eyes burn. She loathed that he no longer used it. She hadn't realised how much she’d loved hearin
g it from him until he stopped.

  He sounded so broken. Defeated. Had she done this to him? It didn't sound like something she knew how to fix.

  She wanted to say something—whatever he needed to hear to heal the part of him that had shattered—but her words died on her dry lips.

  Cale walked away, the silence thick between them. And with every step he took she could feel the abyss between them expand.

  When they’d first met, she wanted to be as far away from him as possible. She’d even considered running away with Cephy, but despite herself, she stayed. Friends were a luxury, and she’d already lost two. If Cale truly wanted to be away from her she’d let him, but sometimes, when he didn't realise she was watching, she’d seen the same pain on his face that she felt now. If there was any chance he missed her, too, she’d take it.

  Chapter Three

  The night Rachael had fought King Aeric, the throne room had been imposing, empty, and devoid of joy. Today it was filled with people, and they were cheering her name.

  Hers. Rachael would never get used to it.

  She felt ridiculous inside her dress. People like her wore rags, filthy linen shirts, and trousers so weather-stained you couldn’t tell their original colour, not ball gowns and corsets. Elyn assured her it was made from the softest Midokan silks, but the luxurious gown felt foreign on her body. It was a stunning red colour and a fantastic design, adorned all over with lace and fine stitching. It was beautiful, fitting for her new role as queen, but the many layers trapped Rachael. The dress wasn’t practical. The corset made breathing difficult. How did anyone move in these things?

  Behind her stood Cale, Kiana, and Commander Dryden, ready to defend her with their life if needed. Cale was observant and quick on his feet as well as with his sword, and she knew Kiana to be as agile and deadly as a cat stalking her prey. Commander Dryden had been appointed by Cale; he was vigilant, brave, and—while he appeared serious in public—he was well mannered. Rachael couldn’t have asked for better protectors if the necessity had occurred to her.

  She knew no one would get past them, but it didn’t settle the unease she was feeling. Not everyone supported her as new queen. How many people against her were in the crowd right now?

  Rachael stood before the throne—her throne—and wished she could sit. Her legs were trembling at the sight before her, and her head was spinning.

  She hated crowds. The last time this many people had gathered in one place because of her, they’d hunted her through Blackrock, the White Guard and trained dogs on her heels. Today’s crowd expected great things from her; she worried they expected too much. How would they react if she failed?

  People from all over Rifarne were attending her coronation. Ambassadors and even royalty from other countries had come to witness the day Rifarne accepted magic as a part of life, and to meet the new queen. She’d heard hushed whispers about the Prophet Queen of Rifarne, and wondered just how she was going to live up to such a title.

  Farmers, nobles, manual labourers from Rifarne, Tramura, Midoka, Krymistis and Vistria had come together to celebrate her. The eyes of hundreds of people were on her, and not all of them were kind. Rachael knew there were plenty of people left in Rifarne who opposed magic, and Tramura had outlawed the gift centuries ago. She doubted anyone would try to assassinate her now, but if Cale, Kiana, or Commander Dryden spotted any suspicious movement at all, her escape could be difficult. The throne room was filled, and if the crowd united and closed in around her…There were doors behind her throne, but how long would it take an assassin to follow her?

  “Are you ready to begin, your highness?”

  Was she ready to lead a country that had wanted her dead not long ago? Was she ready to be their queen?

  No. She would never be ready. How could anyone ever be prepared for responsibility like this?

  Her eyes flitted between the expectant crowd and the patient priest. It was far too late to run now.

  Rachael nodded. “I am.”

  The priest raised a hand, and the guests fell silent.

  Rachael's corset was too tight. Her throat was dry. Only a year ago she’d survived on the dirty streets of an even filthier mining town, where the people had gone out of their way to avoid even the briefest eye contact with her. How could it be that she was now standing in front of a throne, about to accept the crown for a country that had sent its fiercest commander to kill her?

  King Aeric had seemed relieved his rule was over. She understood why, and her rule hadn’t started yet. He’d known his kingdom, his people, and trying to please them had destroyed him. She remembered that tired look in his eyes all too well; he’d been a broken man, a king destroyed by his desire to do right by his people. Would that be her in thirty, forty, fifty years from now? Would someone else come to kill her, and would death be her relief as it’d been his?

  “Rachael of Rifarne, do you swear to protect this country and its children with your life, to the best of your ability no matter the cost, for as long as you live?”

  She swallowed. How could she? “I swear.”

  “Do you swear to give fair trial to all criminals, and pass judgement as you see fitting?”

  How could she? “I swear.”

  “And do you swear to wear this crown with honour, and with pride, and to represent the people of Rifarne in the same manner?”

  She was shaking. She was a fraud, and everyone here knew it.

  “I swear.”

  “And do you swear to rule with kindness, with fairness, and justice?”

  Maker help her, how could she do any of these things? How many people were waiting for her to lose her nerve? “I swear.”

  The priest nodded to someone behind her. Feet moved over the stone floor and toward him. Cale’s feet. She recognised the sound in the dead silence of the gathered crowd. She’d know it anywhere. Today, it was his duty as her Sparrow to bring her the crown.

  The priest took the crown from a silk cushion the same deep red as her dress, and Rachael went to one knee as rehearsed. A gesture of trust and promise, to show her loyalty to her people. They were hers as she was theirs.

  The crown felt too heavy on her head when the priest set it down. It was made from a white gold, and matched its white city. Rachael wanted to kneel at the weight of everything it represented, but she wouldn’t. Not while people were watching.

  “I declare you Queen Rachael of Rifarne, the first of your name. May your rule be long and merciful.”

  The priest went to one knee and bowed, one fist clenched over his heart. The crowd followed his example.

  Rachael turned around to see Commander Dryden and Kiana grinning at her. Cale’s eyes were fixed on the crowd. She’d hoped today, at least, he’d speak with her again, if only to congratulate her, but nothing had changed.

  The priest stood. “Long live Queen Rachael of Rifarne!” The crowd erupted in wild cheers, and echoed his words. Excited chatter followed, and calm, serene music played in one corner.

  Rachael had never seen this many people so joyful. How many of them were only pretending to be pleased while they waited for her to trip and break her neck?

  She’d never been so trapped, or so alone. Not when Commander Videl’s dogs had forced her into a corner, and not when Cephy’s fire had burnt all around her.

  As her guests danced, they glanced her way. Some smiled. Others were harder to read, but Rachael knew what they were thinking. She wasn’t fit to be queen. She wasn’t fit to be anything other than a forgotten street rat, wasting away on the cold streets.

  Rachael wanted to prove them wrong, but how? She was already lost before their hidden threats and accusations.

  Kiana walked up beside her. “Come on, your highness. Your people will want to meet you.”

  “I don’t know what to say to them. And please don’t call me that.” The title didn’t sit right with her. Like a pair of shoes that were several sizes too small, it pinched her every time she moved. She wondered how bruised and bloodied she
would be when this madness was over.

  Kiana winked and smiled. “In front of your loyal subjects, I will. They can't think we don't respect you. The people here might embrace it, but the ambassadors from other countries won’t appreciate it. Especially the Tramurans.”

  Rachael searched the room for the Tramuran ambassador and his wife and son. What were their names again? Their family name was Lis, but she couldn’t remember their first names. Rachael had spotted them when they arrived, and had taken an instant dislike to him. His already light hair was greying, and he carried himself with a cold confidence that reminded her of Commander Videl’s arrogance. His wife’s sun-kissed skin and dark hair didn’t contrast him as much as her bowed demeanour. Despite the fine fabrics she wore, she seemed a servant more than a loved partner. Even from a distance he’d struck her as a cold and ruthless man. He made her nervous, and her instincts begged her to walk the other way. His son had been by his side, but hadn’t struck Rachael as cold or cruel. He carried himself with confidence, but hadn’t made her uncomfortable. Rachael didn’t see him now, but he had to be here.

  How was she supposed to make a good queen if she was intimidated so easily? If she couldn’t remember three names?

  “Do you know them?” Rachael asked.

  “Not personally. I recognise their names, but they aren’t the sort of people who spent a lot of time with the common folk in the market. What if they got mud on their expensive satin shoes? Imagine the horror!” Rachael smiled. She was grateful Kiana was by her side. “They always believed me and others like me to be unworthy of their time. We were invisible to them. I didn’t pay them any attention, either. Why attract the attention of a powerful, rich man who hates you on principle, when you can stay invisible?”

  “What makes you think they’ll accept me?”

  “What choice do they have? You’re a queen now, and they don’t rule Tramura, despite what the ambassador might think. Arnost Lis advises the Tramuran king, but he won’t claim the throne. The king has a son who will inherit his title.”