Branded

by Clare London

  It was a shock to see Fremer as the Silver Captain in charge.

  I didn’t know the other Captain with him, who must have been one of Seleste’s Guard. The stranger saw me first, his face paling with shock as I strode toward him. He was sitting at a low wooden table in front of the archway that led to the cells. As I approached, he tensed and put down the short knife he’d been sharpening with slow, even strokes. It still lay within his reach. Otherwise on the table there were two cups of drink and an empty plate. Nothing to distract: this was a solitary, dreary duty. The young Captain glanced between Fremer and me with some trepidation, and in my previous status as Gold Warrior, I would have disciplined him for such an admission of nerves. But now I stood as nothing more than another soldier—maybe only another man.

  I stopped a few feet from Fremer. His eyes narrowed. “Maen,” he said. His voice sounded tight, as if he struggled to keep it even. “I didn’t think to see you here.”

  I realized I didn’t know how to speak to him. He’d been in my own Guard, and I’d been his commanding Warrior, but now everything had changed. I knew him off duty too, but we’d never been enough of the same mind to have found friendship, even if that hadn’t been discouraged. His expression was weary, and pain festered deep within his eyes. I remembered that Justes had been killed in the raid by the Exiles, when they took Dax and me.

  “Is the Bronzeman here? I wish to see him.” I marveled at how my voice sounded so calm.

  Fremer stared at me for a moment longer. “Yes, he’s here. But you can’t see him.” When I started to protest, he held up his hand. “I’m in charge here, and I say what happens. Do you understand?”

  I was aware of the other Captain beside us and the sudden glint in Fremer’s eyes. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Sir, shouldn’t he—?” The other Captain, though nominally of the same rank, deferred to Fremer’s experience of the Household.

  “Be quiet,” Fremer said sharply. “Go and check the prisoner. Fasten the hatch at the end of the corridor.”

  “It’s fastened already.”

  Fremer turned on him fiercely. I’d never appreciated this aggressive side of him, and I was impressed. He would make an excellent Gold Warrior one day if he were given the chance to develop under Grien’s leadership. “I said go! The bolts are weak. Use the rope there to reinforce them.”

  The man looked disgruntled, but he strode off through the archway, his boots echoing down the flagstones. As soon as he was out of both sight and earshot, Fremer turned back to me. His expression had shifted subtly. “Grien ordered me not to let you down here, Maen. The Mistress has sent word to us all that you’re no longer one of the Guard. You no longer have any privileges or status.” He lowered his voice slightly. “You leave the Household none too soon. You’ve disgraced both yourself and our name. And your men.”

  “I know,” I said. “I told you I understood.”

  “You must go.” He glared at me, his face flushed with anger. I admired his courage in facing me, for it must have been clear from my own expression I had no intention of backing down.

  “No.” I met his gaze. Yes, he knew, yet he stood his ground.

  He shook his head, frustrated with me, perhaps still retaining some respect toward me from the past. “I won’t hesitate to report you if you abuse my duty.”

  I nodded and repeated, “I know.”

  We were silent for another second, but I sensed our tacit understanding. Then he stepped past me to the archway and called the other Captain back. The younger man came back up the corridor swiftly, as if spending time too close to the cells disgusted him. When he looked at me, there was both hatred and fear in his eyes. When he spoke to Fremer, he spat the words out. “The Remainder’s well secured. He’s in some pain, moans on about needing water.”

  “Then fetch it.”

  The Silver looked startled. “He can wait, surely? The barrel needs filling, but we can’t leave our post.”

  Fremer’s mouth tightened. “Fetch the water, Tarnus. I’ll watch here.”

  Tarnus glared at us both. I suspected he disliked this duty, being wrenched from the Queen-Elect’s Guard in order to support a Silver Captain from the Household of the Exchequer. I imagined that many of Seleste’s Guard felt themselves superior to others—a dangerous and arrogant assumption. However, he had orders, and whatever his faults, he would have been well trained to obey them. He turned on his heel and left the room. We heard his footfall on the steps as he climbed back up to ground level to seek more water.

  There was further quiet in the room, just me and Fremer, breathing steadily. I heard no sounds, saw no movement beyond the archway.

  “You should search me,” I said quietly. It was accepted procedure for all visitors to the cells.

  He grimaced. “You’re unarmed, I assume.”

  “I returned to the city with no weapons, nor any formal status in the Guard. The Queen-Elect herself has forbidden me to carry arms.”

  Fremer scowled at me. “So go quickly. See what you have to, then leave me to my duty. I don’t wish to know any more than that.” I don’t wish to know you, he was saying. I don’t wish to be associated with you. I moved past the table and felt him shudder at the near contact. He turned his whole body and stepped away from me, eyes averted. Then I walked on through the archway until I was hidden from his view.

  There were over twenty cells, all of reasonable size, considering their purpose. Dax was in none of the nearby ones, although I knew from experience these were the most secure. I walked as quickly as I dared, controlled my breathing as best I could.

  The walls were patched with mold and the floors were in disrepair: the air had gradually grown too damp for this basement’s original purpose. At the end of the corridor, the deep wooden shelves that once held sacks of foodstuffs were now empty and rotted. Beyond that, a large man-sized hatch was set into the wall, where the goods used to be winched up by ropes to the courtyard outside the kitchens. This hatch was now bolted, and Tarnus had further secured the hinges with rope. It seemed excessive, for the cells themselves were locked and there was no other exit from the facility except back through the archway.

  That was the route they used to take prisoners out to their execution. I’d trodden it myself, on duty, more than once. Few men were kept here for more than a day or so before they met their punishment.

  I saw Dax before he saw me. The front of every cell consisted of a network of thick, close-set metal bars running from floor level up to the ceiling. It enabled the Guards to see their captives clearly at all times, and allowed the minimum of resources to keep them under surveillance. From the angle of my approach, I could see through the bars of the very last cell. Dax sat on the floor, his back against the wall and his legs drawn up to his chest.

  My breath caught in my chest as if I’d been struck. He nursed his injured hand and I could see plenty of new bruises on his arms. He was dressed in his loose trousers and sleeveless tunic, his feet in sandals. He’d dropped his head down onto his knees, his pale hair dusty and tangled and loose on his shoulders. He looked nothing like a soldier anymore, just a young man in pain and misery.

  It was agony for me to see him like this.

  And then he either heard my footsteps or sensed that someone else was in the corridor because his body tensed. Although he didn’t raise his head at once, his hands readied themselves into fists. I was proud he was preparing himself to face whatever approached. He would have been the most magnificent soldier if things had been different.

  Then he looked up and saw me.

  I felt sudden, searing joy as his blue eyes fixed upon me and widened with instinctive pleasure. His hands relaxed and opened again, as if to welcome me. I drew my breath back under control, but I felt light-headed. The pain of his humiliation clenched at my gut all the more fiercely; it was an agonizing contrast to that joy.

  Then his gaze darted behind me as if to see who followed, and his expression hardened again. He stumbled to his feet and t
ried to salute. Was he suspicious of me? Did he think I was enemy or friend?

  “Dax.” My voice sounded hoarse. “I’m alone, and here to see you. I’m not in the Guard any longer. Fremer has allowed me a private moment with you for….” For what? I paused, then tried to recover a firm tone. “For speaking to you. To see how you are.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was listening to my words. His gaze ran back and forth across me as if checking I was really there. “Maen, I didn’t….” His voice was weak and sounded close to a child’s. I sometimes forgot how very young he was. “Can we talk here?”

  I glanced toward the archway, but there was no sound from the guard post beyond. “Yes, for a while.”

  “I told them nothing incriminating,” he said quickly, his voice firmer, his words tumbling out. “I tried so hard not to shame you with my fear or my weakness. My Mistress was so….” He lurched forward against the bars and his good hand thrust toward me. “Tell me you’re safe. Tell me she won’t think the worst of you. That she’ll believe us both.”

  I took his hand. His palm was clammy. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”

  “For freedom’s sake!” he snapped back, startling me. He snatched his hand away. “Don’t tell me those stupid lies! It’ll never be all right again, and I know that. But I want to know you’re safe.”

  His eyes were wild but fixed firmly on me. I looked steadily back at him. “I’m safe from execution,” I said. “The Queen-Elect has pardoned me. They couldn’t prove anything from either of us.”

  It was as if his whole body relaxed, his shoulders sagging with relief. “That’s all that matters. When I was in the hall, I didn’t know what was happening to you. I couldn’t ask, and they never said. Then when they brought you in too, I thought—” He coughed, his face grimacing with pain. “I don’t know what I thought. But you’re safe,” he repeated. “That’s all that matters.”

  “The situation isn’t that simple, Dax,” I said gently.

  His body tensed again. His gaze dropped down. “Of course not. Tell me.”

  “I wish I could say—”

  “Tell me!” he said sharply, though his voice was still low. “I don’t know what time we have left. Don’t waste it trying to shield me.”

  I drew a long breath. “The price of my pardon is to go with the Queen-Elect to her Household. Tomorrow.” I saw him flinch, but he didn’t speak. “The Mistress is angry with us, no matter whether our crime is real or imagined. We’re a disgrace to her Household, and she demands a penalty.” He looked back up then and I realized how foolish I’d been to think I could speak these words with equanimity. “You will be executed.”

  He stood still but his face went even whiter. The scars on his face grew livid against the pale skin. “I’ve not done anything that deserves that.”

  “I know. She is… she isn’t in her right mind. Both she and the Queen-Elect are making their own rules. We’re merely casualties.”

  “Maen.” The soft word was a plea, and it ripped right through me. “You’ve served her all your life. You were the one who never wavered, who insisted on our return to the city. It’s right that you’re spared. You shouldn’t die for your loyalty.”

  I started forward and grasped at the bars. “This isn’t about me! You’ll die tomorrow, don’t you understand? You deserve it even less than I!”

  Suddenly his eyes were those of an old man. “I’m no longer useful. I’m damaged goods.” His hand lifted and brushed gently at his cheek.

  The cynicism in his voice chilled me. “You’re not an investment of the city anymore, Dax. You’re a man who’s been wrongly tortured, a man who’s been betrayed by this Household. You must escape tonight, and I’m here to help you.”

  He looked shocked, as if he was watching someone go insane in front of his very eyes. Slowly, he shook his head. “How ridiculous. That can’t happen, Maen. No one escapes the city from detention.”

  “No one has before, but it can be done. There are very few Guards here tonight. The Household is distracted by this new visit from the Queen-Elect.” I could hear the mounting urgency in my voice. I was impatient with his apparent surrender. “This is the weakest cell in the whole corridor. They should never have put a prisoner in here. You can break the bolt fairly easily. Then you can use the hatch and find your way out through the kitchens to the city walls.”

  He was still staring at me, amazed. “The hatch is bolted and roped off.” He glanced at his injured hand and I felt nauseated at the sight of its twisted digits, bound with a dirty bandage. The pain he’d suffered must have been excruciating. “I… I doubt I can release them all. What are you thinking?”

  I moved my hand slowly, so as not to startle him. Tarnus’s blade glinted in my hand, catching the small gleam of light from a high window. The Silver Captain had been careless, leaving it on the table when he went for water. I’d slipped it into the palm of my hand as I passed Fremer on the way to the cells. “I have this for now, though it won’t be long before they find it gone. Use it to split open the bolt and cut any ropes that bind you in.”

  “Maen?”

  “You’ll be free. I will make that happen!” I growled like a wild beast, and I saw him step back. “But this is your only chance. Don’t argue with me. The time is very limited.”

  He was puzzled, confused. “They’ll catch us before we get that far. The walls are such a distance away, we’d have to climb out unaided and with our injuries—”

  “Not us, Dax,” I said harshly. I couldn’t understand his reluctance. Was it fear? Was he even more damaged from the questioning, both physically and mentally? Perhaps he was in shock from the news he was to be executed. I felt rising panic, knowing how vulnerable we were at this moment. “Not us. Just you.”

  I reached through the bars and pressed the knife hilt into his good hand. His fingers closed around it but otherwise he didn’t move. The flash of shock and pain in his eyes had shaken me. I was very conscious of his hand against mine, of his body, shivering slightly, only a stride away from me on the other side of the bars.

  “No,” he said, surprisingly calmly, “I won’t go without you. Didn’t I tell you that before? I came back here of my own free will, and I’ll accept what it’s brought me. I came back to be with you. If I die for that, that’s what must happen. Besides, they’ll know you helped me escape. I won’t leave you here. I won’t endanger you.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “I said I would be with you,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. His eyes were feverish now, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from them. “That’s all I want, for as long as I have.”

  “Don’t be a fool!” I looked away from his determined expression and started to wrestle with the bolt myself, knowing its weak spots, knowing the rusted hinges that could be prized apart. “Dax, you can go back to the Exiles. You can live. You must live! You should have stayed with them in the first place. I shouldn’t have persuaded you to come back here.” I was so naive, I thought. Naive and selfish. The desire for a few more days with him, maybe only hours, had been an unforgivable weakness, and solely mine.

  “You can come with me there.” He made it sound more of a statement than a question. I continued to work at the old metal, the bolt creaking under my hands. “We’ll be together. The city doesn’t want or need either of us now. The city’s abandoned us. The Mistress has discarded us.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t be accepted back.” I was talking mainly to myself, my impatience increasing. How long before Fremer came to see what was keeping me? Before Tarnus returned begrudgingly with the water? “In my heart, I knew. I should’ve been more honest. We’re so very different, but all I could see were my own needs. That time with the Exiles ruined you, but I just couldn’t—wouldn’t—see it.”

  Suddenly he moved, his broken hand stretching across to grab my arm. The tremor of his touch ran through me like the wind from a summer storm, jolting me as the sudden lightning would strike the city walls. “I’m not ruined,
Maen, and you know it.” His voice was eerily gentle. “It was the making of me. Of both of us. You can’t deny it.”

  “You’ll die for it!” I was angry in my distress.

  “Better that than a life here as the dullard, a toy.” His eyes softened. “Come with me! We can be together outside of this place. There’s no restriction on caste, or lineage, or gender there. You’ll belong there, in time. They’ll accept us both.”

  “I have no time,” I said, bitterly. “But you—”

  “You know I want nothing more than that,” he interrupted. His gaze caught at me again, holding me more securely than any rope. The bolt of the door snapped suddenly against my palm, finally breaking apart, but I never even looked at it. “We can be together.”

  I thought the pain in my chest would actually stop my heart. “We can never be together, not like that.”

  He frowned. I wondered if the pain had turned his mind, for he seemed to have no sense of the danger he was in. “But you did want me, Maen? I didn’t imagine it….”

  “Want you?” I nearly wept for his simplicity. I reached my free hand through the bars to the nape of his neck and grasped at his tangled hair. He jerked his head back in my grip, looking up into my face. “Dax, I will never want anyone or anything as much as I want you. Do you believe me?”

  He stared at me, his eyes even wider than before, and now they focused perfectly on my face. He nodded, and for a second, a smile transformed him. Then it slid away like liquid through loose fingers. “And yet you won’t come with me.”