Runa stopped and stared at Lyric, crossing her arms. Her sister thought she didn’t care and that she was too angry at their mother to be thinking of her, but every step away from Elaina felt momentous. She was still mad and doubted she’d ever get over it, but she wasn’t ready for their mother to die.
“Drink something,” Kell told Lyric, handing her a waterskin.
Lyric sipped the water, then passed it back and ran her hands over the front of her dress, smoothing the pleats at her waist.
“Lyric,” Runa said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. “What’s going on?”
“I feel anxious and unsettled. Sick.” Lyric frowned. “More than I should be, I think. I’m afraid Grandfather won’t see us or that he won’t summon a Dragon Blessed for Mama. I’m worried he’ll see—” Lyric paused, eyes flicking sideways to Kell. “That he’ll imprison us. But I think …” She frowned, her eyes focusing on the slate tiles covering the ground. “I think I’m feeling Gandara’s emotions. She doesn’t like being here in the city. She's scared, angry.”
Kell reached for her hand and Lyric clung to him with a new familiarity Runa hadn’t seen between them before. She frowned, eyeing them.
“I feel it too,” Runa said, thinking of Elenora’s presence in the back of her mind. “The bleed of emotions into my own. Elenora seems to enjoy when I’m angry, and it’s hard not to feel overwhelmed with her emotions fueling mine, pushing them hotter. I can’t always tell what’s me and what’s her.”
Lyric nodded, and her eyes drifted to the path that led back to the main street. “Do you think we’ll get past the guards at the gate?”
“I don’t know,” Runa said, accepting Lyric’s change of subject. “If we can’t, then we’ll figure out where the Dragon Blessed temple is and pound on the doors until they let us in.” She grinned, but Lyric didn’t seem to notice.
Nodding, Lyric leaned her head against Kell’s arm and stared at their tangled fingers. “Are you sure you want to come with us?” she asked softly. “What if … what if our grandfather was at Salta and recognizes you?”
A muscle twitched in Kell’s cheek, and he raised a hand to his throat. He swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “The plan was always to come here,” he said. “Whatever happens, I’ll finally have answers.”
Kell swallowed again, and Runa saw the tattoo around his throat flicker, shifting in color before fading back to a calm blue.
Lyric looked at Runa, worry churning in her eyes. “I’m ready,” she said.
It took nearly an hour to reach the castle’s plateau, their progress slow despite sticking to the main road. People crowded the wide promenade, wearing spiked masks and black and red clothing. Some of the women wore chain-shell tails tied to the back of their belts that swayed as they walked.
Halfway into the city Runa, Lyric, and Kell were forced to the side by an enormous paper dragon held aloft by young men and women wearing gray.
“Is this related to the Feast of Souls?” Runa asked Kell as they waited for the dragon to pass.
“Yes, the Dragon Blessing,” Kell said. He smiled at a little girl waving vigorously at the dragon from atop her father’s shoulders.
Cramped and impatient as the press of bodies surged around her, Runa found herself wishing, for the first time since leaving home, for the vast open fields of their mountain valley. The heat in Raendashar didn’t bother her, but there were too many sounds and smells assaulting her senses.
Behind the dragon marched a squad of six men and women wearing red leather. Their expressions were fierce, their stride proud, as they escorted a brown-haired woman down the street. Rumpled and dirty, she wore a loose vest and white trousers. Blue tattoos capped her shoulders, the faded fish scale pattern curving down her warm beige skin. Though unmistakably a prisoner, the woman looked defiant, her green eyes moving over the crowd with disgust.
The lead soldier, a brown-skinned woman with black hair and a beaked nose, raised a hand and released a volley of fire into the air. The crowd screamed with excitement, and Runa flushed, basking in the Burner’s magic as it washed over her.
“She’s Sireni,” Lyric whispered. She grabbed Kell’s arm, her fingers white on his sleeve.
“She’ll be executed by fire," Kell said, his voice low. “I’ve seen it before.” He tried to angle Lyric away, but she stared after the Burners with horrified eyes.
A thrill curled down Runa’s spine, and she shifted uncomfortably, confused. She wasn’t happy the woman was going to die. She couldn’t be. This isn’t me, she thought.
Elenora pushed into her mind, wearing disgust like a shawl. She’s killed your sisters, your brothers. She deserves this.
No, Runa thought, clenching her jaw.
You’re just like your mother. I know now what she did, her betrayal. I won’t let you become her.
You’ll do nothing, Runa thought. She shoved the ancestor away and tried to close her mind.
Her sister still clung to Kell’s arm, and she looked back at Runa with wet eyes. “We have to stop it,” Lyric said.
Runa laughed incredulously, her voice harsh with the conflicting emotions burning inside her. “What do you think we can do?” she asked.
“This is barbaric,” Lyric said, eyes turning angry. She stared at Runa until she looked away.
A vision of Lyric challenging the Burners filled Runa’s mind. She could see the black-haired woman turn, and hear her sister scream as she burned. “We need to go,” Runa said.
Elenora settled back; pleased Runa wouldn’t interfere.
Rebelliously, Runa touched her sister on the shoulder. “You can appeal to the king,” she said. “I doubt he’ll listen, but you can try.”
“Yes,” Kell said. “There’s nothing you can do here. There are too many soldiers.”
Elenora pulsed with exasperated displeasure and disappeared, leaving Runa alone.
Relieved, she pulled on Lyric’s shoulder. “We need to go, Ly. We might not be able to help the Sireni woman, but don’t forget Mother needs us.”
Lyric looked back at the squad of mages, but she let herself be led away through the crowd.
Feeling drained and on edge, Runa was relieved when they finally reached the castle’s outer gate. She stared at the large stone beneath the castle, impressed by its size. “It’s like a giant sheared off the top of the mountain,” she said.
She could see a narrow road winding around the base, leading from the bottom gate to the castle at the top. Along the ramp loomed two more gates, cut from the stone.
In front of them, the wall of the castle’s outer gate was tall and sleek, topped with two watchtowers and rising from the ground as if it’d been grown from the earth itself. The massive gate was open; the banded iron doors swung wide. Two guards in black scaled armor stood on either side holding bladed pikes and watching a small crowd passing through the gate.
“I’m surprised there aren’t more guards,” Kell said. He adjusted his cloak, so his emerald pin was visible on his collar.
“Maybe they’re patrolling the festival,” Runa said, thinking about the Burners.
Ignoring them, Lyric nodded at the queue. “They’re climbing to the second gate. We should follow them.”
The guards watched but said nothing as Runa, Lyric, and Kell joined the back of the line. Walking through the first gate, they stepped onto the narrow path. It was just wide enough for the three of them to stand side by side, but Runa, on the road’s edge, warily watched the drop as they started to climb. The rock was slick, but the path beneath their feet had been textured to provide footing.
“They don’t need more guards,” Runa said. “They could roll a stone down the ramp, and people would fall off.”
Ten minutes of climbing brought them to the second gate where they reformed a line with the people who’d arrived ahead of them. As they waited for the other petitioners to speak to the guards, Runa considered the gate.
Unlike the one below, there were no visible guard towers, but she saw arc
her slits on either side of the closed door. The gate’s stone, smooth and featureless like a frozen lake, looked impossible to climb.
In front of the closed gate were two tall pillars holding crouched stone wyverns carved from black Raendasharan stone. The creatures’ wings tucked against their bodies, and their clawed feet curved over the pillars’ edges as if they’d landed from a flight. Horned and fierce-eyed, the wyverns’ long-snouted heads looked down on the petitioners as they waited to enter the gate.
Looking at the people ahead of them, Runa saw all but two turned away. Those allowed to enter gave the guards slips of paper before being let through a small door close to the rock wall. The full gate remained closed.
“There are still two more gates,” a woman ahead of them grumbled. “We’ll miss the assembly.” She approached the guards, slip in hand, and after a few minutes was let inside along with the skinny white-haired man accompanying her.
“Our turn,” Lyric said, letting go of Kell’s arm.
Runa adjusted her cloak, revealing the front of her dress, then reached for the pendant in the pouch at her waist.
“Next!” the guard called, in a bored voice. “Present your writs of passage,” he said, as Runa, Lyric, and Kell approached. Despite his tone, the guard’s eyes were sharp beneath a fringe of black hair.
Lifting her chin, Runa smiled blandly, but let it slip off her face as the guard gave her a wary look. “We don’t have a writ,” Runa said, “but we seek an audience with King Rakarn.” She hurried on as the second guard started to raise his hand to send them back down the road. “We're here on behalf of our mother, the Crown Princess Elaina’delaina Raendashara.”
“We’re his granddaughters,” Lyric said.
The guards exchanged glances.
“Granddaughters to the King, are you?” the black-haired guard asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked at Kell. “And you’re what, their guardian?”
The second guard snickered, his brown eyes running down Kell’s lean frame.
Kell introduced himself with an elegant bow.
“A bard!” the brown-eyed guard laughed. “Now that is a curious escort.”
“We realize it’s irregular traveling without a proper escort,” Runa said, “but given the current political climate, we thought it best to arrive without much fanfare.”
The black-haired guard glanced at the second. “Have you ever seen the Crown Princess?” he asked.
“Never, but isn’t she a recluse?” the second guard said. He shifted his jaw, considering. “I’ve never seen her attend any event, including the Champion’s Ball. I can’t speak to their resemblance, but that one’s got the right hair color …”
“Red hair isn’t limited to the royal family,” the black-haired guard said. “You’ve met my sister.”
“Definitely not a princess, that one,” the second guard laughed.
“Excuse me,” Runa interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “If you’d refrain from wasting our time it’s imperative we speak with the King as soon as possible. If you can’t take us to him directly, can we speak with an advisor? I have a keepsake from our mother.” Runa pulled out the pendant and unwrapped the stone, holding it up to the light.
The guards leaned forward, humor slipping from their faces. “We should confer with Captain Pelaran,” the black-haired guard said. He looked at Runa then eyed Lyric and Kell sharply. “Wait here.”
“We have no intention of leaving,” Runa said.
Turning around, the guard walked to the small door and rapped it with his knuckles. A foot-soldier with similar black armor and green sleeves stuck his head out, and they quietly conversed before he slipped back inside and closed the door.
Returning to his post with the second guard, the uniformed men stared at Runa, Lyric, and Kell with focused attention.
Waiting for the Captain, Runa glanced behind Lyric and Kell and saw a small group of hooded figures walking up the road. More petitioners, she thought, turning back to the guards. Impatient though she was, she resisted the urge to shift her weight from side to side and kept her posture straight and unmoving like the statues above her. She stared into the black-haired guard’s eyes and was secretly thrilled when he eventually shifted and looked away.
The door scraped open, and an older man stepped through, striding towards them with purposeful steps. The young foot-soldier followed close on his heels.
Runa studied the new man curiously. He was armored like the guards but had red, metal bars pinned to the high collar around his throat. His sleeves were red instead of green, beneath a black gambeson. His strong jaw was scarred and grizzled, and a black mustache, carefully trimmed and peppered with gray, sat beneath a blunted nose as if he’d taken a shield to the face. His hair was short and silver. Despite his flattened nose, Runa thought he was rather handsome for an older man. He felt intelligent and dangerous.
The black-haired guard saluted crisply. “Captain Pelaran, these women claim they are the daughters of the Crown Princess and request an audience with King Rakarn. They have a pendant from the royal treasury and are accompanied by Kell Layreasha, a songsmith.”
Runa kept the surprise from her face by sheer determination. Had King Rakarn reported the pendant as stolen? They’d intended it to help their cause, not land them in prison.
The Captain looked Runa over with hard, gray eyes, then shifted his gaze to Lyric and Kell. “I’ve heard rumors of heirs to the throne," he said, studying their faces, “but I’ve heard rumors of many things. This pendant you carry has been missing for over twenty years.”
“It wasn’t missing,” Runa said, meeting the Captain’s eyes without flinching. “It’s been in our mother’s possession, a reminder of home.”
“Where’s the Crown Princess now?” Captain Pelaran asked.
Runa saw the guards exchange glances behind him. Was it not common knowledge then, that their mother wasn’t in the city?
“She waits for our return in Ivernn.”
“Why did she send you alone?” Captain Pelaran asked.
Lyric brushed her fingers against the back of Runa’s sleeve. “She was injured, Captain,” Lyric said. “That’s why we must speak to the King. We need a —”
“If the Crown Princess is in danger,” the Captain said, cutting her off, “I’m bound to look into it. I can’t, unfortunately, take your word alone that you are who you claim to be.” He held out his hand for the pendant. “You need to come with me until we can verify who you are.
“Lieutenant Shefton,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the foot-soldier. “Escort them to the Hold. We —” He cut off, seeing the Lieutenant’s eyes shift beyond Runa’s head and flare in alarm.
Captain Pelaran whirled and drew his sword. “Out of the way!” he yelled, as Runa’s eyes widened.
Fumbling to put the pendant back in her pouch, Runa scurried sideways, bumping into Lyric as the Captain and guards rushed past.
Kell grabbed her shoulder and pulled her against the rock wall beside Lyric.
What’s going on? Runa thought, eyes on the sprinting men. Looking past them, she saw the hooded people had reached the gate. They were drawing weapons and throwing off their cloaks, revealing loose, white breeches and bare chests. Knotted cords and blue sashes wrapped their waists, the ends dangling down to mid-thigh. One of them yelled something she didn’t understand.
“Sireni!” Kell breathed.
One of the white-clothed men took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder, and Runa snapped her head back to the gate. Someone was firing a crossbow from behind the arrow slits. A bell started ringing, a loud, clanging sound.
“Hold!” Captain Pelaran roared, drawing back Runa’s attention. He, along with the three soldiers, had closed with the attacking Sireni.
Lieutenant Shefton, fumbling with his sword, engaged a man with long, black hair. The Lieutenant was fast but frantic, barely able to parry the returning blows.
The Captain barreled into the knot of men, stabbing one in the thigh, then tossing
another off the road with a solid hit from his shoulder. “Defend the gate!” he bellowed.
Runa darted another look at the gate. The small door several petitioners had been allowed to enter was hanging open. The bell fell silent.
Runa looked back and saw Captain Pelaran smash his fist into another man’s face, knocking him back. Unaware or unable to turn, the Captain caught a powerful sword thrust in his side, the blade punching through the dense fabric of his gambeson and driving him down on one knee. He clutched his waist, swinging his blade wildly. Blood sprayed into the air as the Sireni pulled his sword free from the Captain.
Lyric gasped beside her and Runa felt Kell shift, moving in front of her and Lyric.
The Lieutenant, still battling with the long-haired man, tried to reach his fallen Captain. He pivoted and swung his sword, slicing deeply into the man’s unprotected chest, and continued past him. Back turned, the Lieutenant didn’t see the falling man’s arm come up as he lurched, and the curved sword buried itself in the back of his head, knocking off his helmet. Both men fell.
Fighting with pikes, the guards feinted and stabbed. The Sireni seemed unable to flank them, restricted by the narrow width of the road. Runa wondered if the guards would succeed in driving the attackers back to the first gate when one of the men in white snapped his hand out, fast as an adder, and grabbed the black-haired guard’s blade. Ignoring the blood dripping off his hand, the white-clothed man tugged, unbalancing the guard. Sliding underneath the long pole, the Sireni man slashed up with his dagger, catching the guard across the face.
“What do we do?” Lyric hissed, grabbing Runa’s arm.
Runa thought quickly. Could she summon fire and toss it at the Sireni like a hogsball? Was she fast enough to get them before they reached her? Maybe Lyric could summon wind and if Kell still had his damned staff then —
The remaining guards fell. The Sireni, barely winded by the quick fight, turned their eyes and weapons on Runa, Lyric, and Kell. Three had fallen during their assault, but three remained. They were of various ages with tattooed, sun-bronzed skin, and eyes in different shades of blue and green. Two had long hair, both blond, braided back from their faces. The third man had brown curls that stuck out from his head in a sun-lightened cloud.
Daughters of Fire & Sea Page 24
