The Endless Skies

by Shannon Price

  For a dance or formal ceremony, I might wear a dress, but I’ve worn this so often, it’s practically a second skin. Still, after seeing Vera all dressed up, I wish I were wearing something else. Something … prettier.

  “Congratulations, Warrior-Elect,” a passerby says to me, placing her hand gently on my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I reply cheerfully. “May the skies keep you.”

  “It’s happening,” Ox says, squeezing my hand as we move deeper into the crowd.

  “One more day,” I reply. “It doesn’t feel real.”

  Victory in the arena or competing in a race: neither matters as much as the fact that in less than a day, I will be a true warrior. Every cut scarred over, every weapon mastered. Every sleepless night as our superiors pushed us to the limits so we’d be ready to face any enemy. It will all be worth it when I take the warrior’s oath and accept my uniform.

  I pause a moment to watch as a healer flies overhead, headed for the Glass Tower. Her shadow crosses over the two of us, and for a moment, I wonder why a healer would be flying straight to the king, during a festival of all days. I couldn’t think of anything so urgent as to call him there.

  “Oh, hey,” I say. “I found a dead bird earlier, like the sentinels said to look out for.”

  “Sentinel Renna said to report any of them to her,” Ox replies.

  “I know,” I say. “Even we lowly warriors-elect got the same orders.” I resume walking. “I’ll write up a report tonight. No need to do it now, right?”

  A selfish fear rises in my stomach. I am so close. So close to becoming a warrior. Whatever is going on must be serious, but it won’t change anything.

  I’ve dreamed of taking the warrior oath for years: the king speaking the words, and a sentinel handing me robes the color of bravery and loyalty. I’ll put them on immediately, and when there is a break in the celebrations, I’ll go to my father’s grave and tell him I did it, I became a warrior just like we’d always talked about.

  Nothing under the skies can take that dream from me. Nothing.

  2

  SHIRENE

  Sounds of revelry echo from far below us, just enough to remind me of all we are missing out on. I was supposed to have been judging a dance competition at the marketplace by now. The citizens will have already noticed us gone.

  Sweat breaks at my brow despite the breeze. I know my role means I have to push away my fear, even more so than when I was a warrior. With the city’s eyes on the sentinels for strength, calm is all I can allow myself to be.

  Still.

  We have been patient with the humans. We tried to do the right thing, and they closed off their hearts.

  A palace attendant announces that the ambassadors have arrived. I sent the summons myself, and thankfully my first task as the King’s Voice has gone smoothly. We sentinels start to take our normal places, and Hammond clears his throat when he sees me going to my chair.

  “The King’s Voice sits nearest the king and queen, Lady Shirene.”

  “Ah, thank you,” I say. “Old habits.” Sentinel Faera had been the King’s Voice so long, it seemed to come naturally to her. I think of the older sentinel’s posture and gestures, and hope I’ll manage to live up to her legacy.

  At least I remembered not to wear my hair in a warrior’s style as I usually did. For this meeting, I left it completely down, save for twin pins on their side of my brow. The metal wings curl back and around my head, perched high enough to scrape the back of my chair if I lean too far back. I adjust my posture just as the ambassadors enter.

  The embassy of the Sea Queen is first, the hush that they bring with their presence only emphasizing the silent grace with which they move.

  Alys and Rhys are brother and sister, and identical in nearly every gesture. As children of the Sea Queen—as all the sea-folk referred to themselves, regardless of bloodlines—they are gifted with impossibly long lives, but they look like they are in their midtwenties like I am. Alys wears a long dress of pale blue silk, the fabric skimming the slight curves of her frame. Despite being ambassador for over two years, she forewent any trace of Leonodai culture. No earrings hang from her ears, no sash ties her waist. Her long silver hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, emphasizing her prominent cheekbones and soft eyes that give little trace of any emotion.

  Her brother has the same look—an unreadable expression like ocean water trapped in glass. His hair is nearly as long as his sister’s, and he wears it down and unadorned. His robes are secured with a large brooch on the left side bearing the emblem of the Sea Queen: two three-point crowns, one above and the other mirrored below, with a curved oval-shaped space between them. When we were kids, Rowan told me many times she thought it looked like an eyeball with pointed lashes, and despite all the years, that’s still the first thing I think of when I see it.

  The pair take their seats. Alys tucks her feet daintily beneath her dress, something I’ve noticed she does religiously, as if ashamed of their presence. Unlike Leonodai, the sea-folk do not transform at will. Their magic only comes to them when they are in the sea.

  “Early, as always,” Hammond notes with a nod of respect to each of them. “I’m sure the king will appreciate your prudence in this matter.”

  “Our second abrupt summons in as many weeks. It’s exciting,” says Rhys.

  “Quite exciting,” his sister echoes.

  I bristle at their lighthearted tone. This meeting is not a party—we are in a crisis. But who am I to judge what is interesting to beings whose lifetimes are measured in centuries and not years?

  A sharp laugh breaks the quiet, and into the hall strides the embassy of the bearkings.

  “Apologies, my lords and ladies,” the princess says. “You again neglected to consider the thousand and a half stairs my poor, earthbound body would have to climb to get here.”

  Adorned from head to toe in silver jewelry embedded with thick cuts of amber, Princess Freanna is wild-eyed with a crown of chestnut-colored hair that she leaves unbound and free. Just eighteen years old, she is the only surviving child of the First Bearking, the first two having died in an accident several years before.

  “They were chasing a stag,” the princess had said over some dinner where she’d gotten into too much wine. “The dull-minded cubs didn’t see the rotted wood of the tree beneath them.”

  Spoiled and stubborn, Freanna takes as much pride at digging in her heels on matters of state as she does sparring with warriors in her bear form during her spare time.

  Freanna slumps into her chair. She wears a dress the color of moss and belted with chains of silver studded with claws. Of the five bearkings, Freanna’s family is sovereign right now. Their kings rotate every ten years. Despite her attitude, Freanna’s voice is needed here.

  Even she will see reason, I tell myself. She must.

  The horselords’ ambassadors are right behind. Stern as ever, Lord Cambor greets us with a stiff bow. Dressed for practicality, the only hint of his status is an intricate silver breastplate, the metal having been worked so intelligently that it looks as if it is made of woven reeds. There are three horselords in all, each with equal power.

  Cambor’s wife, Lady Marradoa, similarly acknowledges us with a curtsy, her dark brows pulled together in knowing concern. Her eyes flick around the room, taking in every detail as she would if she were in her equine form. In my experience, she keeps her words and thoughts close to her chest, choosing to listen rather than speak, but in private conversation, she is warm and tactical. The food supply for the Four Kingdoms has flourished under her guidance.

  A chime sounds, and I stand without thinking. “Their royal highnesses, King Kharo and Queen Laianna of the Leonodai.”

  My heart thrums. Skies, I’ve shared bread at their table on more than one night, but the sight of our people’s monarchs still steals the breath from my lungs.

  King Kharo’s dark attire is visibly simple. Pious, I think. He is a king, but today he will try to get his way withou
t straining relationships with the other kingdoms.

  The queen’s gown matches that of her husband: a rich blue so deep it would have appeared black in another light. Her circlet rests intertwined in her hair, which has been arranged in a warrior’s style: braided down to her neck, then tied off in a low ponytail. The other ambassadors may not make the connection, but to any Leonodai present, the choice speaks volumes—everyone in the Four Kingdoms must be ready to fight.

  They take their seats, with the rest of the room following suit.

  “It’s nice to have someone in that seat again,” Queen Laianna whispers to me. “I’m sure you will do wonderfully, Sentinel Shirene.”

  The king speaks before I can respond, but I nod my thanks.

  “Esteemed ambassadors,” the king begins. “I thank you for your time and will not waste it with minced words. Last week, I called you here to discuss a sickness that has since killed several Leonodai children, with no signs of stopping. The only cure known to us is a flower that grows deep in our enemy’s lands.”

  “It would have to, wouldn’t it?” Freanna mutters. “My grandfather kept journals. He said humans stripped the land at Garradin. Who knows how many miles of destruction there are, now, a hundred years later?”

  My hands clench. Everyone in the Four Kingdoms, from child to elder, knows the story of the fifth magical race: the fox-kin.

  Since the beginning of time, the fox-kin had thrived on Balmora while the other four magical races lived on Vyrinterra—it’s how we all spoke the same tongue, though on the Heliana we simply refer to it as Leonodai. When humans first made their way across the continent, they didn’t present an immediate threat. But years turned, and the humans wanted to settle the coast. The fox-kin refused to share the land, and the tensions rose. The fox-kin called on the other kingdoms for aid.

  Only it came too late. The fox-kin weren’t armored and didn’t have means to defend themselves. The humans attacked in the daytime, when most fox-kin were sleeping. They poured water, sand, and refuse into the tunnels of the fox-kin’s underground city.

  In that horrible act, Garradin became a tomb, and our war with the humans began. The first king and first queen used all their magic to split the Heliana from rest of Vyrinterra, raising her to the skies to fight and defend against the threat. We’ve been fighting ever since.

  The king, however, doesn’t need a history lesson, and he ignores Freanna’s whispers. “Together, we agreed to offer the humans a lasting peace in exchange for the cure, or at least safe passage to where it grows.” The king pauses, and I feel the blow before it comes. “The humans have refused.”

  Princess Freanna lets out a groan. “Typical. We shouldn’t have attempted to bargain with them in the first place.”

  “Indeed, Princess Freanna,” Hammond cuts in. “We put too much faith in the humans’ desire to reach Vyrinterra. Now they know that the Leonodai are vulnerable. And they will expect us when we go looking for the cure.”

  “You have already decided?” Rhys says inquisitively. “I thought we were called here to give our opinion.”

  “I doubt,” Lord Cambor cuts in, “that King Kharo has to give any more than a moment’s thought as to whether or not to save the youngest generation of his people. It is what any of our sovereigns would do.” The ambassador’s stormy expression is made sterner under his heavy brows, pulled closely together. “Besides, we all rely on the Leonodai’s protection.”

  “We don’t,” says Freanna. “Our fortresses are built to withstand any attack—like the one that we are about to invite thanks to the Leonodai’s lack of prowess in the healing arts. That is why I suggested we look for the cure on Vyrinterra before going to the humans,” she finishes. “But if you recall, I was overruled.”

  “The Leonodai children dying several floors below your feet do not have the luxury of time,” snaps Sentinel Renna, voice rising with years of practiced authority. “We don’t have time to be pulling weeds up in the mountains. We must rely on what we know.”

  “So far,” the king says slowly, letting the room calm, “the disease has only affected children, but we don’t know if that will change. We must act fast. Sentinel Hammond, if you please.”

  To my left, the Second Sentinel straightens up.

  “Tonight,” Hammond’s voice booms, “we will send out teams of Leonodai warriors to Balmora. Only the most trusted will be chosen. No one will know their mission except them. The teams will seek out the panacea and return it to the Heliana.”

  “And what is it you are asking of this council?” Alys asks, drawing a long lock of hair forward and twisting it around her finger. “Our people already defend from the seas as you defend from the skies. We’ve taken down nearly two dozen large ships this year alone.”

  Hammond bows his head. “And you have our gratitude, Lady Alys. From the sea-folk, we are asking only greater vigilance. The humans know we are weak, so they may ready a stronger attack.”

  Rhys cleared his throat. “We need not consult our Queen for this,” he says. He shares a glance with his sister, who nods at the same moment he does. “We know our sovereign’s will dearer than our own. The people of the sea have the most to lose if the shores of Vyrinterra are corrupted and polluted by humans should the Leonodai not defend us. I will request that patrols be increased.”

  “The humans may try to go around the Heliana,” Renna notes.

  “The Queen sees all,” is Lady Alys’s immediate reply. “She knows every shadow that crosses the horizon and which of those do not belong. She will know, and we will fight.”

  “Thank you,” says King Kharo.

  An awkward silence follows. I steel myself. Faera would never have allowed a lull during something so important, even for a moment. She would lead the ambassadors to where she wanted them to go.

  “Lord Cambor. Lady Marradoa,” I say, meeting Hammond’s eyes for a moment. He gives me a tiny nod. “Of the horselords, we ask you to strengthen your city’s defenses. We would also seek to bring some of your healers to the Heliana, on the chance they can teach ours something to delay the disease’s onslaught.”

  “A reasonable ask,” Lady Marradoa replies, eyes ever watchful. “We can agree to that. The defenses on our shores will be strengthened, and our most vulnerable evacuated should the humans attack. That said, we would return to Vyrinterra as soon as possible to inform the other lords of the plan directly.”

  “Thank you, Lady Marradoa. The boat will be readied immediately, and a team of warriors will help lower it to the sea whenever you are ready.”

  I turn, looking Princess Freanna in the eyes. “Princess, we ask the most from you. You know the Leonodai rely on metals from your mines. We’d ask that not only you provide us with additional materials, but your blacksmiths as well.”

  Freanna’s eyes go wide. “The bear-kin do not share their secrets of weapon making.”

  “Princess—”

  “No,” she says sternly. “You may have metals, but I won’t order our smiths to leave home for this. As I mentioned, the bearkings need not fight at all. You are in our debt.”

  A hundred years of protecting your hides so your people could get lax up in the mountains, and this is the thanks we get? I grit my teeth. “Yes, we are. If you need more time to consider, please take it. But for now, the Leonodai graciously accept an increase in raw materials.”

  Freanna sits up. “I will return with the other ambassadors to inform my father of what has occurred and ensure the supplies are sent promptly.”

  “Skies keep you all. Thank you,” says the king. He rises, and those gathered do the same. “We will waste no time. At the hour, Sentinel Shirene, call the warriors to the Tower. We will send the teams that Sentinel Renna has chosen tonight.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” I bow my head. Then, for a moment, I doubt. “The High Summer festival is our people’s most revered day. The citizens will know something is wrong should we interrupt it.”

  “The citizens will know soon enough when they
notice children missing,” the king replies solemnly. “At the hour, Sentinel. Sound the bells.”

  3

  CALLEN

  Rowan is with Ox when I finally find her in the High Summer festivities. Her hair is braided to her neck with the rest of it flowing down her back. I’ve never realized how much I liked that style until now. Practical, but pretty, too.

  Focus, warrior.

  My heart thunders in my chest, and no amount of training for war has readied me for what I am about to do. I was up before dawn, restless with the rumor Exin casually mentioned last night as we were eating dinner. Around us, members of our own cohort and the younger warriors-elect mingled with excitement and anticipation in their eyes, eager for the reprieve that High Summer would bring us.

  “So. I heard Rowan’s been visiting Ox’s room at night,” Exin had said, the edge in his voice clearly seeking more gossip. My friend’s implication was in no way subtle, and I nearly choked on a mouthful of fish.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Just what I heard.” Exin resumed poking around his plate. “I thought you might know something, though. Crazy to me that you two never got together.”

  I shook my head and tried to push past it, unable to think of anything to say. There was no way he’d meant anything by it, but Exin’s words stung worse than a burn, and my heart pounded as if I were in the middle of an intense sparring match. Questions spun in my head like buzzards—when was the last time Rowan and I had hung out in the evening, outside of practicing for the Four Gates race? Was there any truth to this?

  After dinner, I went to her room. When no one answered the door, I flew up to my own room and slammed the door behind me.

  I should have told her how I felt months ago.

  I slept restlessly and woke up with my heart low in my chest. Still, when the sun rose, I’d gotten myself together enough to get out of my room and ready for the race. I’d trained for weeks, after all. Rowan helped me memorize the course. She knew that winning the Four Gates race was a surefire way to grab the city’s attention—and that of the sentinels. It is the ultimate goal of a lot of warriors to become a sentinel someday, and I was no different. What’s more, the honor would surely be enough to bring back some semblance of my father’s former, proud self.