The Veil of Trust

by S. Usher Evans

  "You're the one who told them to go," I said.

  He flashed me the gold coin. "I'll do anything for money."

  "Clearly." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I would've thought now that Celia's out of power, you and your opinions would've taken your gold and left."

  He shrugged and ate another slice. "She's still in camp, ain't she?"

  "For the moment," I said.

  "Why?"

  I hid a cringe from him. "Because I thought it would be better to keep her here."

  He shook his head. "I knew you were still soft. You've got over a hundred soldiers at your command and you're scared of one woman." He snorted. "No wonder these people think you're a failure."

  "I'm not scared and I'm not a failure," I said, my face flushing at his honesty. "I just think it's smarter to keep her where I can see her. What's to stop her from walking down to Ilara's castle and giving us all up?"

  "You." Jax ran his finger across his neck. "Problem solved."

  "I'm not going to kill her," I said with a frown.

  "Well, you gotta do something," Jax said. "Besides kicking these soldiers' favorite person out on his ass, you've done nothing except dither and stall. They ain't stupid."

  The group of young thieves turned the corner and jogged by, stopping to salute me again. This time, more than half of them got it right the first time, even if they did press their fists to their chests at different times. Jorad, however, was unimpressed, and barked at them to keep running.

  "That was ridiculous," Jax said. "What do you care if they salute you?"

  "They're learning skills they'll need to fight Ilara and Beswick," I said.

  "They have skills. Or else they would've been kicked out of the camp." Jax shook his head. "Felix Junior is acting like they're all soft children. Most of them have seen more battles than he has. Why aren't they in the trees? Why aren't they practicing with real swords instead of those baby wooden ones?"

  "Firing Mark was hasty, and as you said, the soldiers clearly liked him more than me," I said, flushing. "I'm trying not to rock the boat any more than I have. So if Jorad wants to run these kids around, then I'm going to let him. It's not doing any harm right now."

  "Who's watching the border, hm? Who's keeping an eye on the southern plains to make sure Ilara's not on her way?" Jax tilted his head back. "How are they gonna get a message to you if the ond comes waltzing through the forest? They don't know the whistle code. By the time they tell you where it is, the ond'll be halfway to Forcadel."

  The little voice in my gut agreed with him. "I'll readdress it in a few days."

  "Well, I'd tell you to make the young master listen, but you also haven't told Celia to hit the road," Jax said, pointing to the back of the camp. "So I'm not going to waste my breath offering advice you won't take."

  Jax certainly had a way of getting under my skin, especially as he cared little for my ego and took great pleasure in bruising it. I didn't know whether to be grateful or displeased that he'd decided to stick around, but I did know that it meant there was still something in it for him.

  I avoided the groups of new recruits who seemed bound and determined to salute me whenever they saw me, and made my way toward the training ring. There, the older soldiers who Jorad hadn't pressed into training services were sparring.

  Unlike before, the soldiers didn't seem eager to come speak to me. Some of them even purposefully avoided eye contact, perhaps to keep me from striking up a conversation.

  "Yer M'sty."

  I turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Locke had been in camp nearly as long as I had. We were around the same age, and as a young teen, I'd nursed a small crush on him. But that had faded the day I'd killed the Forcadelian soldier. Now, he was a foot taller than I was, scarred and dangerous-looking. His path had certainly been a rougher one than mine.

  Still, it was odd he'd stayed. Unlike Jax, no one had promised him gold if I returned to the throne. What was Locke after?

  "I didn't think you'd stay," I said, after a long pause. "You know you're free to go. Whatever debts you owed Celia are expunged."

  "Well, I 'member what you did for me," he said, the tops of his cheeks turning red. "How you gave me that stuff that…"

  I nodded slowly. When I'd last been to Celia's, I'd asked her to provide soldiers and swords in exchange for a new weapon—hyblatha, a hallucinogenic plant. She'd wanted a demonstration and had chosen Locke to take it. His visions had been vivid and terrifying, leaving him a sobbing, trembling mess. It wouldn't have been so bad had it not been on full display for the entire camp.

  The memory burned in my consciousness. "I'm sorry I couldn't have given you the antidote sooner."

  "That's Celia," he said, glancing at the hut in the distance. "At least she let you."

  I followed his gaze, almost reading his thoughts. "Still, thank you for staying. We need as many hands as we can get."

  "Yer telling me," he said, looking to where two soldiers were facing each other with wooden swords. "They ain't even in real danger. Precious soldiers. They need to toughen up a little. Celia would laugh at them."

  "They're tougher than they look," I said, hoping that was the case. I clapped to get their attention. "You seem to have found the training rings to your liking. If there's anything else you need, Locke will help you find it."

  "Maybe I should find you some real weapons," Locke said, nodding at the wooden broadsword in the soldier's hand. "Do you think your enemies will have wooden swords?"

  "That's not how we do things in a civilized world," the soldier barked back, gripping the sword. "We're not in the habit of stealing people from their homes."

  "Neither am I," Locke said, leveling his gaze at him. "But I am in the habit of not being killed. Have you ever been in a real fight, or have you just trained with fake weapons?"

  "Locke," I snapped. "That's enough."

  "Who is this joker anyway?" another soldier said to me. "One of that pirate Celia's? Why isn't he behind lock and key?"

  "And for that matter, why isn't she?" asked another one.

  "Shouldn't she be out on her ass like Captain Mark?"

  "And what are we doing here? Why aren't we in Neveri, taking the city back?" asked a female soldier.

  "My brother died in the gate," said yet another male soldier. "And for what? What did we gain by destroying the gate if the Kulkans aren't going to work with us at all?"

  "We gained Ammon's alliance, as well as the Niemenians," I said, but my heart began to thud against my ribcage.

  "We ain't got shit from them," the first soldier said. "Just wandering around the countryside. Meanwhile, that desert-dwelling bitch has a stranglehold on the country. And you're just hiding out."

  "What in the Mother's name is going on here?" Jorad and a group of young soldiers came jogging by. He must've sensed I was losing control because he stopped his cadets in mid-stride. "Everything all right, Your Majesty?"

  "Fine," I said with a tight smile. "Locke was just offering to help the soldiers train."

  "Then get to it," Jorad said with a steely glare. "And quit pestering Her Majesty with inane questions. When we have something to share, we'll share it with you."

  To my surprise, everyone in the group saluted him and returned to their posts without another word.

  "Ygritte, take the cadets for a loop around the camp," Jorad said to a nearby soldier. "I'll catch up."

  The new cadets trotted away under her careful eye, and the other soldiers were soon sparring with their familiar wooden weapons. Locke gave me a look of surprise before turning to watch the matches. I hated him seeing me unable to control my own forces. I hated being unable to control them.

  Jorad took me by the arm and led me away, out of earshot of the soldiers. "What happened?"

  I heaved a sigh. "I'm terrible at this, that's what happened. I can't even talk to my soldiers without them questioning everything I do."

  "Don't let them question you. They should just wait for orders and follow th
em." He frowned. "Why were you over here anyway? Shouldn't you be getting the camp in order?"

  I licked my lips. "I'm trying to repair the damage I caused. But I think I just made it worse."

  "Repair how?"

  I shrugged. "Last time I got into the ring with all of them, they seemed to like it. I thought I could do it again."

  His expression was somewhere between patronizing and respectful. "With all due respect, Your Majesty…as much as you disagreed with Captain Mark's assessment of your leadership skills, he had a point. Sparring is nice every once in a while, but it's not what a leader does. They need leadership, not to be beaten in matches."

  "What should I do?" I asked, helplessly.

  "Just let me continue to lead them in your stead," Jorad said. "In time, they'll adjust to your rule. And when we've got news to share, they'll be happy."

  It sounded like he wanted me to step aside and let him take command, much like Mark had. Still I didn't want to argue too much. Jorad was the only thing keeping half the soldiers from walking out the front gates. And he'd already proven himself to be loyal to me.

  "Fine," I said weakly. "Do what you must."

  As clearly, I had no idea what I was doing.

  Chapter 26

  Katarine

  I'd strayed out of line with the Kulkan envoys, putting not only myself, but also Felix, in danger. It had been a stupid risk, and I couldn't believe how completely I'd misread the situation. To make matters worse, Ilara had all but restricted my movements, leaving two Severians in the hallway outside my room under the auspices of "security." Luisa was now an infrequent visitor; I only assumed she'd taken my spot as Ilara's advisor. Even the servants had been instructed to keep to themselves, barely offering a good morning when they arrived to clean my study.

  It was a lonely place, made lonelier by the constant reminders of Beata everywhere. Without being able to leave, I paced the rooms that we'd once shared, worrying about her and Felix and Brynna and all the other things I couldn't control.

  Finally, I could take it no longer, and I penned a request to Ilara, asking if I might be allowed to attend the weekly church sermon. The response was flourished and vapid, "Of course, my dearest Katarine, whatever you need," but when I opened my door, two Severian guards were there to escort me.

  Spiritual solitude, I surely wouldn't get.

  With my shoulders back and my head held high, I traveled the short distance to the church on foot, eager to stretch my legs. My gaze drifted to the bell tower, and my heart ached. Seeing Brynna there all those months ago had been like taking the first breath after being under water. But now I was back in the murky depths, and running out of air.

  The church was the same as ever, lit up with the candles of those who were in need of prayers. I walked the long distance to the front, feeling the gazes of those already seated. The congregation was a mix of Severians and the few Forcadelians who remained in the city.

  I settled into the cushion in the pew and closed my eyes. Although past kings and queens had joined the service on a weekly basis, Brynna hadn't been interested and clearly Ilara wasn't either. I hadn't ever seen her at a service, although she regularly spoke about the Mother's grace. Perhaps if she'd been to one of Fishen's sermons, Ilara wouldn't be so hellbent on making the wrong decisions all the time.

  But in this sacred space, those thoughts fell flat in my mind. I wouldn't waste my only Ilara-free moments thinking about her. So with a soft breath, I cleared my mind and prepared myself for the sermon.

  "Evening, Lady Katarine," said a male voice behind me.

  I tilted my head to acknowledge whomever it was, and my heart stopped. Johann Beswick sat behind me. He was much thinner than I remembered him, but his sharp eyes remained the same.

  "Evening," I said, after a moment.

  "You're looking well," he said. "But I suppose life in the castle is easy compared to ours."

  I exhaled slowly as three more men took the pews behind me. "I suppose one could look at it that way. But being in the castle has its own challenges."

  He chuckled darkly. "I'm sure being a spy for Princess Brynna is not without its dangers."

  It was all I could do to keep a straight face. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't seen her since…since Ilara stabbed her."

  "Pardon me if I don't believe you. Your girlfriend mysteriously disappears around the time a trio of masked vigilantes begins wreaking havoc in the city?" He made a noise. "Timing is suspect."

  "Beata knew, but I was unaware," I said, thinking it best to stick to my lie as I'd been telling it. There was no knowing which master Beswick served—even if it was himself. "It was the reason our parting was so strained." I looked back at him. "Have you…seen her lately? Beata?"

  "Can't say that I have, but I assume she's with your Princess Brynna," Beswick said. "It must be hard to know they're so close and to not be with her."

  "Close?" I couldn't believe that. "What do you mean close?"

  "There's been some disruption of my business lately. Your princess seems to delight in causing me trouble." He narrowed his gaze at me. "She needs to back off, or there will be dire consequences."

  "Whatever Brynna is or isn't doing, or wherever she is, I have no clue," I said, finally turning to look at him fully. "I've had no contact with Brynna in months. If you would like to deliver a message, you should perhaps do it yourself."

  He simply smiled, sending chills down my spine. "As you say. But I would reconsider whether coming to church every week is the safest idea for you. Then again, it's clear that your position in the castle is becoming more precarious. Perhaps Ilara's hoping the mob will do to you what she lacks the spine to do herself."

  I stared into his dark eyes, mustering all the confidence I'd seen in Brynna. "I would think that you have more important things on your plate than to threaten me, Lord Beswick."

  I felt his gaze on the back of my neck and did my best not to fidget. If he was trying to intimidate me, he would fail. I was a princess of Niemen, and a lady of Forcadel. He would have to do more than smile to scare me. Still, if Brynna was in the city, I wished I could give her his message. Not that she'd listen.

  One of the other sisters climbed onto the dais to open the service, offering a litany of prayers that had been requested. We rose to our feet and sang a hymn of the hope, joy, and comfort of the Mother's love then gave our offerings. Then, finally, Fishen rose to speak, offering the smattering of attendants a warm smile that reminded me that not everything had changed.

  "Good morning," she boomed, and the congregation returned the greeting. "I'm glad you're here."

  I closed my eyes and let her good sermon run through me. The constant theme over the past few months had been of finding light in the darkness, of leaning on one another, of welcoming challenges with grace and humility. She was a master of weaving in anecdotes and scripts, landing at a central theme and making us all think. When she finished, we stood to sing one more hymn, filling the church with the beautiful sound of a hundred disparate voices.

  Fishen closed the service and the congregation rose, some moving to the confession boxes to speak with the sisters. I wanted to take advantage of the brief respite, so I made a beeline for Fishen as she worked her way through the crowd. She had a patience about her that I'd always admired, fearing no one who came into the church, no matter how disheveled.

  "My lady," she said, nodding to me. "You look troubled."

  "I am," I said. "May we take a walk?"

  She offered her arm and we began to walk, when I felt the presence of the Severian guards behind me.

  I paused and looked over my shoulder. "Surely, you will grant me the privacy to speak with my spiritual leader."

  They blushed and looked down as they took a seat in the pew. At least they still had some semblance of decency and reverence.

  "Come, my child," Fishen said with a small chuckle. "Let's go to my gardens."

  Although the gardens weren't as nice as the royal g
ardens in the castle, Fishen and the sisters took great pride in their green space next to the abbey. Here, instead of roses and hedges, there were fruit trees and rows of vegetables that were given away to the poorest in the city. But now, the vines were picked clean.

  "We can barely keep up," she said. "Her Majesty must have some idea of what she's doing, but she's starving the population in the meantime. Those who can leave, have. And those who can't…well, they are here."

  "I think she's up to something," I said. "But I can't figure out what it is. There are so many mysteries I'm trying to unravel, and so much worry in my mind. I haven't seen Felix in weeks, and I fear… every day I fear I'll hear that he's died. Or that there will be irons for me."

  "Place your fears in the Mother's hands," Fishen said. "She will take your burden."

  "I can't," I said, tears coming to my eyes. "My place in the castle is slipping, and I'm the only thing keeping Felix alive right now. I wish…I wish we could both just leave."

  "But where would you go?" Fishen asked. "Your sister has all but declared war on Forcadel. Would she take you back?"

  I bit my tongue rather than speak the truth. "We will go somewhere else, perhaps. Somewhere no one knows our names." I shook my head. "But that won't happen unless I can get Felix out of that prison."

  Fishen was silent for a long time. "I have heard a rumor that Lord Garwood isn't long for this world."

  "I have heard the same," I said, curious about the change in topic.

  "Ilara has allowed him a lord's burial outside the city," she said. "You'll recall the preparation of the body."

  How could I forget? After August's death, Fishen had brought a white shroud lined with gold thread and placed it over his body as it was carried out.

  "It would be easy to put a different body under the blanket, you know," she continued, giving me a look.

  "I don't—" I stopped, my eyes growing wide as I realized what she was saying. The shroud was sacred, not to be removed for at least a week, in most cases. But for Garwood, it would remain on him until his body was delivered to the cemetery outside of town.