The Deceiver's Heart

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “That’s exactly what this is about.” Gabe’s tone softened further. “Even if you have other reasons.”

  More determined than ever, I pressed the blade tighter against Gabe’s side. “Where is she?”

  He opened his mouth to respond, when an explosion from above ground shook the earth, sending whole chunks of dirt down on our heads. We ducked and eyed each other with a mutual understanding. Lonetree was under attack.

  My voice became more earnest. “Gabe?”

  This time, he relented, pointing down the tunnel. “Last door on the right.”

  I tapped his shoulder in appreciation then ran down the corridor while he went the other way. More Coracks were emptying from every part of the cave, calling out orders and distributing weapons from the cache rooms. There were no other explosions, so maybe that had been a mere warning, but it was one we had to take seriously.

  Loelle appeared at the far end of the corridors. “Everyone return to your quarters, where it’s safe! Let the captain work this out.”

  But if anyone heard her, they didn’t listen. Instead, someone called out, “Dominion?”

  From the surface, another person answered, “No. Brown and blue. Halderian colors.”

  The very fact that they were openly wearing their colors was significant, given that just being identified as Halderian made a person a target of the Dominion. They hadn’t launched an organized attack since losing the war, and they shouldn’t have any complaint against us. Our alliance wasn’t official, but it had been reliable since the Coracks’ earliest years. What had changed?

  Kestra. They knew she was here.

  The Halderians were far from enthusiastic about Kestra as the Infidante, but I’d thought they had accepted her. Certainly Thorne, the current Halderian leader, supported Kestra. Why wasn’t he stopping this? And how did the Halderians know she was here anyway?

  “Captain!” Breaking the silence, Trina lowered herself down a ladder and burst through the corridor right past me. “They’ve sent a messenger through. We have ten minutes to respond.”

  Tenger darted from his office and must have heard her, because he said, “What’s the message?”

  Trina handed him a paper, which he held up to an embedded clearstone to read, then his face tightened into a grimace. “Unacceptable.”

  Behind him, Loelle seemed to have guessed at what the paper said. “We must move Kestra to safety, Captain.”

  “Agreed.” He looked around until he found me. “Hatch, you’re coming with me to speak to them. Someone find Basil, he’s coming too!”

  “I’ll get Kestra,” Loelle offered.

  But Tenger shook his head. “You need to prepare for our wounded, though I hope it won’t come to that.”

  “Let me go,” I offered. “I’ll protect her better than anyone in this camp, you know that!”

  Tenger snorted. “You’re with me, and you’d better remember your orders. Trina, wherever Kestra is, Basil will be there too. Send him to me, and then you stay with her.”

  “Yes, sir.” Trina eyed me as if she’d just achieved some sort of victory. Maybe she had.

  Tenger sent me up the ladder ahead of him, then once we were on top, he cursed and said, “I should have brought your sword … Your Highness.”

  He raised a hand to signal someone to go down for it, but I grabbed his arm and shook my head. “I meant what I said before. I won’t claim any title from these people, certainly not now while they’re attacking us!”

  “They only wanted our attention.”

  “No, they want Kestra, and that explosion was their way of saying they intend to leave with her, one way or the other. Isn’t that what the message said?”

  Tenger nodded. “They demand that she return with them to the Hiplands. I’ve got to offer them a compromise, for all our sakes.”

  “What compromise?”

  By then, Basil poked his head above the surface. “Halderians?” he asked. “I thought they were on our side.”

  “I thought so too.” Tenger pressed his lips together and began walking forward. I followed on his right and Basil was on his left. The thought occurred to me that if we were forced to negotiate, I might offer Basil in exchange for Kestra. Or better yet, exchange him for nothing at all. Either way, she was not leaving with them, not under any circumstances.

  We approached a line of blue-and-brown flags carried by a half dozen men in similar colors. In front of them were another ten Halderians with thick leather tunics and fur cloaks, each wearing a brown sash with three thin blue stripes over one shoulder. I immediately noticed Gerald, the man who’d been a spy in Woodcourt when I was there. Because of his bluish skin, he was easy to spot, but he was watching me too, with a stern expression that struck me as a warning. Beside him was a girl near my age who had latched on to me with her eyes, though I couldn’t tell if it was friendly or not. In the center of them all, a man dismounted, obviously in command. It wasn’t Thorne, but I had seen this man before, in the audience when Kestra claimed the Olden Blade. He was large, had closely shaved hair, and was the only one with armor over his chest. The Halderians definitely wanted their presence known.

  “We expected to see Thorne,” Captain Tenger called out. “Isn’t he here?”

  “Thorne lost a challenge for his leadership,” the man facing us responded. “He was too enamored with the idea of Kestra Dallisor as the Infidante. My name is Commander Mindall.”

  “Kestra might bear the Dallisor name, but you must have been there the night she became the Infidante,” Tenger said. “She has no Dallisor blood.”

  “She has Endrean blood, which is worse,” Mindall said. “Endrick’s blood.”

  “She is half Halderian,” I said. “Her father—”

  “Yes, I was there, I know!” Mindall set his eyes on Basil. “Who are you?”

  “He is Sir Basil, heir to the throne of Reddengrad and soon to be husband to Kestra Dallisor,” Tenger said.

  Speaking with more authority than I’d have expected, Basil added, “Our trade agreements have saved the Halderians, supported you through your darkest years. Continue to attack this camp, and all of the privileges you have enjoyed from us will end.”

  Mindall laughed. “Some would say that Reddengrad has benefitted more from the labor of Halderians. We don’t need your trade agreements. We intend to reclaim the Scarlet Throne of Antora.”

  “Without a king?” Tenger eyed me.

  When Mindall failed to respond, from behind him, Gerald said, “That’s a detail yet to be resolved.” He was still looking at me, but this time, I pretended not to notice.

  “Anything the Halderians want, you need Kestra alive to get it,” Tenger said.

  “No, Captain, the opposite is true. We need a new Infidante, one we trust to wield the Blade for the good of Halderians.”

  The only way they’d get a new Infidante was with Kestra’s death. If we told them she had no memory of her quest, they’d feel more certain they were doing the right thing. If we told them the Olden Blade was missing again, and that only Basil knew where it was, they’d wring the information from him in an instant.

  “And what if we don’t give Kestra up?” Tenger asked. “I’ve grown fond of the girl. If you killed her, I’d feel very put out.”

  “If you don’t hand her over to us within the next five minutes, your entire camp will feel ‘put out.’” Mindall waved his arm forward, and a man to his right lifted a square metal box with hammered wires leading toward camp, obviously suggesting that more explosives were already in place.

  “Why would we agree to this?” Basil asked. “To send her to her death?”

  Mindall didn’t so much as blink. “With apologies, as she is your future bride, what about our agreement that anyone with Endrean blood must die? Surely you can see the risk of putting the Olden Blade into the hands of any Endrean. If she succeeds, we’ll replace one tyrant with another.”

  “Perhaps you’re
right.” Tenger looked at me with a slight shift in his eyes, a silent order I well understood. Aloud, he said, “Simon, go get Kestra.”

  “Sir! They intend to—”

  “They intend to destroy this camp. The Coracks and Halderians are allies, and until they have a legitimate king to say otherwise, we will do as they ask.” I started to protest again, but Tenger added, “Basil, go with him. Make sure he does exactly as I ordered.”

  “My daughter, Harlyn, will come as well,” Mindall said, and the girl who had been watching me earlier slid from her horse. She was tall and lean with wide brows, curly black hair cut short, and she seemed comfortable with the blade at her side.

  I twisted my face into a grimace, but nodded curtly at her and Basil to follow me. I wasn’t particularly comforted by being in either one’s company.

  As we walked, my mind raced for what to do. Under no circumstances would I hand Kestra over to the Halderians, yet Harlyn was clearly here to ensure otherwise. Unless she struck first, it wasn’t in me to harm this girl, and if we attempted to take her hostage, we risked the explosives collapsing the Lonetree caves.

  Basil looked over at me, his mouth pressed tight and his eyes full of questions I couldn’t answer. But he was my best solution, if he had enough brains to decode the conversation we were about to have.

  “Basil will take you to Kestra,” I said, “although she’s still in our prison cells at the far end of the camp. I’ll get a horse ready for her to ride out with you.”

  Harlyn chuckled. “What I’m hearing is that Basil will distract me for a few minutes, possibly even try to lock me in the cells, while you help Kestra escape.”

  I cursed under my breath while Basil made his best attempt to negotiate. “If your people do anything to harm Kestra, you will incur the wrath of Reddengrad—”

  “The wrath of Reddengrad—what is that?” She poked my arm with her elbow as if we were sharing a joke. “We use pole weapons like yours to practice for our real weapons.” Before either of us could argue that, she locked one arm in mine and the other in Basil’s and said, “Listen carefully, because you’re both laughably transparent. The Halderians are split over what to do about the Infidante. Half want to give her a chance. Half want her dead. My father is with that second half … but I am not, so here’s what you’re going to do. When we’re out of sight, I’ll give Simon my sword to temporarily hold me hostage while Basil gets his betrothed as far from this camp as possible. Then release me and I’ll go crying back to my father about how she disappeared on her own when she saw us coming. I’ll claim to have fought and injured Basil here at camp … despite his fearsome pole weapon. Simon, you’ll return with me and give the same story. Agreed?”

  I stared at her a moment, taken aback by her candor. But when she opened her mouth to speak again, I quickly said, “Agreed, except Basil and I are switching positions,” and felt surprised that Basil didn’t object.

  Instead, he asked, “How do we know we can trust you?”

  “Well, you don’t, obviously.” Harlyn sighed, withdrew her sword and handed it over to him, then turned to me with an oddly timed smile. “Games of suspicion are tiresome. Don’t you agree?”

  While Basil waited with Harlyn, I descended back into the tunnels. My first stop was in Tenger’s office, where I retrieved my sword. From there, I went to the room where Trina was supposed to be guarding Kestra.

  I opened the door. “Kes—”

  But neither she nor Trina was there. Back in the corridor, I grabbed Gabe’s arm as he rushed past me. “Where’s Kestra?”

  Gabe pointed to the right. “Trina was taking her to the launch room.”

  The launch room was adjacent to our underground stables and was the place from which we rode to the surface. Trina had no reason to be there with Kestra. Then realization crashed into me. How stupid I’d been!

  “Trina wants to be the Infidante,” I told Gabe, though it was more than that. Trina believed she deserved to be the Infidante and that Kestra had stolen her place. Maybe Trina thought she still could fill that role if there was no more Kestra. And if that was true, then Trina could be the reason the Halderians knew to come here. And now she would deliver Kestra to them. What if this had been her plan all along?

  “I’ll find Kestra,” I said, already hurrying toward the launch room, “but you must make sure the Halderians are stopped here!”

  My conversation with Basil hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped, and the deflated expression on his face was punctuated by the sudden explosion above ground. Someone out in the corridors shouted that it was the Halderians. My heart began to race with a fear I’d never known before. Nothing in my past could prepare me for something like this.

  Nothing in the past I remembered. Their physician, Loelle, seemed to think something was wrong with my memories. Yes, perhaps I was missing a few moments here and there, but surely nothing that would tell me what to do now.

  Basil wiped at his eyes, the last time he would likely think about me. “The Halderians are supposed to be allies with the Coracks. Why would they attack?”

  “It’s me.” My jaw clenched. “It’s because I’m a Dallisor.”

  Basil’s shoulders fell. “No, Kestra, you’re—”

  The door burst open and Trina rushed through it. “Basil, you’re wanted at the surface. Tenger needs your help now.”

  Basil nodded, reached for my hand, and gave it a kiss, saying, “I’ll make things right between us, I promise.” Then he hurried from the room without another word.

  Trina’s eyes were wide with alarm. “They’re here for you.”

  Again. They were here for me again. As soon as Trina spoke, that was the word that had followed in my mind. I couldn’t explain why.

  Trina tilted her head. “Do you remember it, Kestra?”

  I drew back, realizing I’d covered my mouth with my hand. “Remember what?”

  Now she simply pointed to a satchel hanging from a hook embedded in the cave wall. “Pack a bag. It’s going to be a cold day.”

  “What should I take?”

  “I already packed most of what we’ll need, but take this.” Trina tossed me a winter cloak that I quickly buttoned around my neck, then grabbed a blanket off a nearby bunk, a fire starter, and a cup, which she tossed to me to fill the satchel. She looked around the room but there wasn’t much else here. “This will have to do. Let’s go.”

  I followed her out of the room and was half-trampled by Corack fighters who were scrambling in every direction while Trina merely breezed around them. “How do you do it?” I asked. “I can’t imagine being someone who’s always thinking of fighting.”

  “Can’t you?” She smiled back at me as if we were sharing a joke. I only frowned in response. I’d meant what I’d said.

  By then, we’d reached the underground stables, where a horse was already laden with riding bags. She dumped the items she had collected into one bag, then attached my rolled blanket to the saddle.

  On the outside of one saddlebag was a binding cord, an invention of Lord Endrick’s. One end of the cord could be snapped onto the wrist of a prisoner and would not release without its master’s order. I didn’t know why she had one and didn’t like that she was bringing it along.

  “I’ll wait here.” I stepped back, overwhelmed with alarm. “Tenger wanted me to stay in camp.”

  “Stay in camp and the Halderians will find you. Can you get into a saddle on your own?”

  “I’ve never tried.”

  She groaned and steadied the horse for me to climb up. She began to follow, when Simon yelled, “Stop!”

  He had his sword again, and it was outstretched toward Trina. The expression on his face was deadly serious, but so was hers.

  She raised her hands. “I’m moving her to safety.”

  “Back away.”

  Trina snorted. “I’ll come with you. You need my help.”

  “No, I don’t.” Simon advanced, separating us with a gesture of his sword. “Don’t try to fo
llow us.”

  “Simon, this isn’t a good idea. It’ll mean trouble for you.”

  His chuckle was harsh. “No doubt, but only if Tenger finds us. And he won’t.”

  I’d begun to slide off the horse, but when he saw me move, he pushed Trina aside, then nearly leapt into the saddle behind me, shaking the reins to race us up the ramp out of the underground camp.

  I squirmed within his arms. “Where are you taking me?”

  If he heard me, his only response was to pull me in closer. I felt the tension in his muscles, saw the stiff grip of his hands. He was furious, or frightened. I was both.

  We rode fast until the camp was long out of sight, and still Simon pushed us forward, ignoring my questions, my threats, and anything else I could think of to slow him down. The first few minutes of escape from the camp lengthened into what might have put us an hour away from the others. We were deeper into the Drybelt—the dusty landscape confirmed that. There wouldn’t be many people out this way, and if they were here, they probably weren’t Loyalists. I’d have to free myself. Somehow.

  Finally, he brought us to a walking speed. I thrust an elbow behind me. “Do you have to sit so close?”

  “Yes.”

  I rolled my eyes, unamused. “Please,” I said, pointing up ahead at a thin stream. “I need a rest, and a drink.”

  This was true enough. In this arid part of the land, it might be some time before we encountered another water supply.

  After a few seconds in which I’d thought he was ignoring me, Simon slowed his horse to a stop. He dismounted first, then helped me off. “Stay where I can see you,” he said, then led the horse farther downstream for a drink.

  I knelt beside the stream and looked around until I found a piece of rock, maybe sharp enough to be a weapon. He wouldn’t believe that I could use it, and perhaps he’d be right. We’d find out together.

  With the rock clasped in my hand, I took a quick survey of my surroundings. The stream flowed from a pass between two sparse hills ahead of me. I didn’t see anywhere to hide, but if I got a good start, I might be able to outrun him.