The Emperor's Daughter

by H M Angues

  Kainan, I call out, trying to reach him.

  Nothing but silence ensues. And then, like a whisper, I’m here, Cal. I am always here.

  I can tell that he’s hiding something from me, and try to dig deeper and find it, but he interrupts.

  I can’t let you do that, little firebird. If you knew, you’d come charging in to save me. Things have to go as planned.

  Trust me, he adds, his voice in my head fading. And know that everything I do, I do for you. Hearing his voice doesn't soothe me like I thought it would.

  How did you know you wouldn't actually kill me in the Arena? I ask, the question nagging at me.

  I've spent enough years with Ramsey in my head that I've learned to exercise some control. Enough to not truly kill you, he answers.

  “The point of all this,” Jed adds on, yanking me from Kainan, “is to give you the time to become the unstoppable force you have the potential to be. If you become powerful enough, even the king of Helkyn is willing to settle your differences and support your cause. Our sources in the king’s palace say he fears Ramsey will try to take his nation next and he doesn’t support her wholeheartedly. There’s a good chance he will listen, in time, if we petition for his support.”

  “Ramsey thinks you’re dead, Your Majesty. The world thinks you’re dead. It was all planned—your enemies won’t be looking for you, and their guards will drop,” Valek says. “Right now, even though it may seem like Ramsey’s won, you have the advantage.

  “And there’s one other thing,” my trusted adviser announces, clearing his throat and pausing long enough to allow me to absorb the information they’re piling on me so rapidly. “The Arena Grand Master.”

  Valek nods toward the door behind me. I turn around and almost cry out at the sight.

  Reddish-blond hair, half of it tied as always, the rest falling just past his shoulders. Those soft blue-gray eyes that I never let myself forget through the months. Those broad shoulders, that muscular frame so similar to our father’s…

  Talon Renald stands in the doorway, a bright smile lighting up his features.

  I leap from the table, but stumble on my way as immense pain explodes through my left leg. I shove the pain to the back of my mind, hurtling myself toward my brother. I wrap my arms tightly around him, afraid that if I let up my grip even slightly, he’ll disappear. I bury my face in my brother’s neck and let myself cry without holding back. We stand there for what feels like ages, brother and sister reunited.

  When he finally sets me down on my feet, I take him in again to make sure it isn’t a dream.

  And then I punch him in the arm. Hard. I even make sure my hand burns him a little.

  “Ow!” he yelps in that deep voice. I’d almost forgotten how soothing it sounded. He rubs his arm gingerly as he says, “I guess I deserved it, though.”

  “We had a funeral for you! I set your room on fire and almost lost my mind and you’ve been here? Who the fuck was in that casket?” I have thousands of more questions, but those are the only ones I’m able to get out in one breath.

  He laughs a little. “Let me show you around the District and we’ll talk,” he says.

  I cross my arms but nod, leaving Valek and Jed behind to do whatever it is they need to do.

  ∞∞∞

  The Arena District is a vast, dry desert land. The air is hot, and a layer of dust sits over the ramshackle town known as the Village. It has small, rickety wooden homes lining the streets, and even a small market square that looks somewhat medieval. Some of the structures are lifted on precarious stilts that look ready to buckle under a gentle breeze.

  The place as a whole doesn’t even seem habitable, but the people… The people are something else.

  Not one of them fails to greet me with a warm smile. They all recognize who I am—the Renalds are famous in Helkyn. Primori emperors ruling an entire nation; it gives them hope that there is more for them than the hellish life they have in Helkyn.

  “They’ve all but sworn allegiance to you, Cal,” Talon explains as we stroll through the Village. “Namari is the only hope they have. For years, Helkyn has tried to shove it down their throats that our empire is no better than Helkyn, but the Primori wouldn’t have it. They believe Namari is a holy land of sorts. And ever since your ‘execution,’ they’ve become even more supportive of you, of our nation.”

  Talon clears his throat and hesitates before adding, “They think Ramsey is trying to wipe them out. Over the last week, Primori have been disappearing whenever her troops come for their so-called visits. I think Ramsey’s having them killed. They need your help, Cal.”

  I stop walking and grab his arm, staring intently into the gray of his eyes. “We and they are one and the same. They’re our people, Tally, our species. And you know I would sacrifice my own life for my people.”

  He curls his lips into a thin line. “I know.”

  ∞∞∞

  Talon leads me to the small shack he calls home. It’s minimally furnished with only the bare necessities, but he explains that he has more than everyone else here. My brother—how strange it feels to see him—instructs me to make myself at home. He sets to work in the poor excuse for a kitchen, concocting some odd-smelling stew.

  “Potatoes, broth and bread are all they give us out here. There are some roots and plants and critters we harvest that can survive in the desert. Disgusting, but nutritious. You’ll get used to it,” he tells me as I force it down. I doubt that.

  When we’re done eating, he takes my bowl and sits back down at the small table, folding his hands in front of him. “There’s something else we need to discuss.”

  I lean forward. “What?”

  “We’re the same. The whole every ability thing.”

  I tilt my head, confused. “Every ability? When Valek and Jed were talking, I thought they just meant the ones I’ve manifested. I didn’t know—”

  “That we’re capable of mastering all of them? Yeah, we’re kind of special like that. I haven’t gotten very far, since no one here knows, but I’ve gotten the hang of a few. Fire included. I wish I could be the sole one to teach you, but I’m not advanced enough to be of any use. Everything other than Aero is pretty weak, and not getting stronger with practice.”

  Talon was born an Aero, able to bend the air around us to his will. Once, on the battlefield, I watched my brother force the breath out of a man’s lungs with little more than a glare from those grey eyes. I picked the trick up from him, I suppose, remembering how I used it on that soldier in Haercayn.

  “So, you said the Primori believe Namari is a sort of holy land. What does that mean?” I ask.

  He nods. “They follow the native Eterran religion, in a sense, though most don’t worship any of the old gods. To them, Namari is the land of the children of gods. According to legend, it was the gods who mated with Eterrans to create the Primori, and that Augustus was the first of them. They think he is the first of our kind, and that Namari is a safe place. A holy land, like I said.”

  My eyes fall to the dirty floor of Talon’s house. “It’s not safe for them anymore. Not as long as I’m here, and Ramsey there.”

  When I feel myself about to panic from just how much is at stake here, I search for the bond, finding it deep within me, and I latch onto it.

  Neither of us says a word, but Kainan’s presence is still there. I don’t let it go.

  “Calla?”

  Talon’s voice yanks me back into Helkyn, into his shabby home. “I, uh... Sorry. What were you saying?” For my brother had been speaking while I was lost in... whatever that was I just had with Kainan. My Flame.

  A traitor, Jed thinks. But I don’t believe it for a second.

  “I was saying that you won’t have to be here for long. The time will fly, and we’ll both be going home to Namari before we know it.”

  Talon gets up from his seat at the small table and sits beside me on the dingy sofa, a plume of sand and dirt rising up his weight crashes down on the cushion. “You
were talking to him, weren’t you? Just now.”

  I snap my head toward him. “How did you—”

  “You said his name.”

  I suck in a deep, slow breath, and nod. “I knew the moment I met him. Jed thinks he’s working with Ramsey, that he could be a traitor, but… I know he’s the one that killed me, but not a single piece of me doubts that he is loyal to me and to Namari above all else.”

  My brother stars at me for a long moment. Studies me. “You’ve grown up so much,” he mutters. He runs a hand through his matted hair and says more clearly, “I live with these people. I see what their lives are like. And I’ve met my fair share of Twin Flames.”

  “I tried to deny it, you know. But it hurts to turn away from him, to be apart. Was I wrong to try? I just... I was worried about hurting Rysen. And...” I let my voice trail off.

  “No.” He hesitates. “It wasn’t wrong to try; many have. Many are successful, too. Why didn’t you want him, though?”

  “I was tired of being told what to do, how to live. Even if what I was being told to do was something I wanted, anyway.”

  “You brought up Rysen. You don’t want to hurt him?” Talon places his large hands on my shoulders.

  “He thinks he’s in love with me.” I think back to that day in Drakonis, when Rysen said everything he could to hurt me.

  “That's not all that's bothering you, Cal. I know you too well.”

  I offer a small smile. “You and Blade both. I don’t know what to do, Tally.”

  Talon loops an arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his broad chest. “You're an intuitive and intelligent woman. Trust your gut, Cal.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Again.”

  I let out a groan, turning my focus back to the banners and tapestries hanging from the stone walls of the Arena’s training center. They begin to shudder and wave with my gusts of wind, but nothing more.

  “I can’t,” I gasp. “Why can’t we start with, I don’t know, an ability I already sort of have? Like Metallurge or Terra?”

  Talon’s shoulders shake gently as his deep laugh echoes off the stone. “What’s the point of being able to master every ability if you’re just going to hide in your comfort zone?”

  I narrow my eyes at him and my brother’s burly frame stumbles backward from the blast of air I sent his way. He falls on his ass with a thud, a huge grin stretching across his face.

  “There you go!”

  “I missed you,” I mutter, my happy mood fading. “And not just when I thought you were dead. Before... When you married Sybella and became a king.”

  Talon brushes himself off and walks toward me. “Then, as you know, it turned out my wife was our crazy great-aunt who wanted to take over the empire. I always was a little suspicious—her skin was a little on the dark side to be as Rorani as she claimed.

  “I missed you too, though,” he says as he tugs me into an embrace. “I won’t leave again. I promise. Now, knock me on my ass again; it’s good practice.”

  ∞∞∞

  The next morning, a very short, very sun-darkened Primori woman shows up at Talon’s doorstep. I open the front door to reveal the overly perky woman standing at the door. Unlike most people who tower over me, she’s about my height and we stand eye-to-eye.

  “Hi!” she squeals, revealing a metal bar poking through her tongue. “I’m Jeynira, but I prefer Jey.”

  Talon appears at my shoulder. “Jey, it’s good to see you. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

  Jey shrugs. “I wanted to give you guys at least a day or two to settle in before I made myself known.”

  She tucks a few strands of orange hair behind her ear and I notice even more body jewelry adorning various parts of her ear.

  Jey notices my gaze. “It’s Primori tradition. Most of us have tattoos and piercings. It separates us from the nobles and middle class, since they view body art as something horrendous and vulgar. Do people in Namari have the same view?”

  “No,” I say, stepping aside so she can come in. “To Namari, it’s a lost art. I thought everyone who practiced tattoo had died with all the other native traditions.”

  “Not the Primori, Your Majesty. Native traditions live on through us. And, as you share our blood, you should learn the culture, too,” she says.

  I turn to my brother. “Have you gotten any piercings?”

  He shakes his head. “No, not yet. But there’s a first for everything.”

  “You should let me pierce you!” Jey exclaims, running up to me and studying my face, cupping my cheeks in her hands. “Full lips—I don’t want to change their pretty shape. Your nose has the perfect slope for studs. Oh! A septum ring would look gorgeous on you!”

  “Is this really what you came here for, Jey?” Talon questions.

  She sighs, shaking her head. “Always ruining my fun. No, it isn’t why I’m here. My family and I… Well, we made you something. Come with me.”

  I glance at Talon before following her, and he nods approvingly. He knows these people much better than I, so I’m still skeptical of trusting them, where he seems comfortable enough.

  I follow her closely across the Village, to what looks like a blacksmith's workshop where armor and weapons are made. Probably for the Primori fighters with less violent abilities, as they lack the protection and destruction others naturally have. The smell of burning metal pierces my nostrils, but it soon ceases to bother me.

  Jey leads me to a back room filled with finished products. A few others—a man who looks like he could be her father, a boy about sixteen, and another, taller Primori woman—stand patiently aside. They hand Jey two silver rings, which she in turn places in my palms. The objects are surprisingly heavy for how thin and small they are.

  “It’s something we’ve been working on ever since your brother became our Grand Master and told us stories of you. A Primori emperor… You have no idea how influential and inspiring it was to hear of you,” Jey explains. “He showed us old pictures, and your armor is very outdated and unpractical.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “This is armor?”

  The man that may be her father smiles. “Not quite. Weapons, Your Majesty. Put them on.”

  I slide the silver rings over my hands, the metal cool against my wrists. “They’re a bit loose,” I point out. My wrists are dainty and thin, the bracelets loose enough to fall off if I drop my hands.

  Jey almost laughs at my comment. “You’re Metallurge, Your Majesty. Make them tighter.”

  I do exactly that, willing the metal to constrict, and they sit snugly in place. “Now what?”

  The younger man steps up nervously, his hands shaking as he reaches for my wrists. I wink to let him know that he can be comfortable around me here. He touches the bracelets.

  “These bracelets are meant to be your weapons. Swords, daggers, anything sharp, really. All it takes are your abilities as a Metallurge, Your Majesty. You have other abilities, but sometimes you need metal on hand when there is none. Your brother has also told us you prefer swords in battle. A common Metallurge tendency.”

  I glance at my wrists, the silver reflecting the dim light from the bulb above my head. They melt and twist and reform into two menacing blades. I never liked guns, even in war; you have so few options, so little flexibility in what you’re capable of doing or not doing. Melee weapons, swords in particular, were always my weapons of choice on the battlefield with my father.

  I take a moment, admiring the blades. “Thank you for this,” I tell Jey and the others.

  “Oh, just wait.” Jey runs into a back room. When she returns, she’s dragging an armor mannequin behind her on old, squeaking wheels.

  Silver plates over obsidian-black chainmail, a metal corset of shimmering black, a cloak as dark as the night, clasped by a red brooch at the neck. A full set of armor, slimmer and sleeker than the hulking ceremonial crap I have to wear. Though bulletproof, it was always impractical and clunky. “It looks skin tight. Seamless. How would I even get it on?�
�� I ask.

  “Same concept,” Jey explains. “Use your abilities.”

  I pick up on what she means instantly. The metal components of the armor slip off the mannequin, the chainmail reforming to my own body, followed by the plating. From neck-to-toe, metal—specifically, titanium, according to Jey—fits tight to my skin. I move around in the armor to find that it’s just as flexible as any tactical military gear, allowing for just as much protection as my old armor without the hinderance of my movement.

  “One last thing,” Jey’s father tells me, reaching behind him. “You’re in hiding, Your Majesty. Plus, it's nice to have a bit of fliar.”

  “More flair than skin-tight silver and black armor? I think I’m all set,” I say jokingly.

  He hands me the thick black cloak, which Jey pins around my neck. “Now you look like an emperor,” she says with a smile.

  I can’t help but hug her, and then each member of her family in turn. “Thank you,” I say, over and over again.

  ∞∞∞

  When I step into the training area, I’m all too excited to use my new toys.

  “Does it look badass, or what?” I ask my brother.

  “I don’t remember. Let me see it again.”

  I summon the armor once again, each piece forming perfectly to my body. I even show off the swords I had designed in my own head. Talon takes a step back, admiring it all. Though, there’s a hint of jealousy in his gaze.

  “I like it,” he says.

  “Am I going to have to hear about you being jealous all the time now?” I groan.

  “Not as long as you don’t show off constantly. Though that’s a bit difficult for you.” He winks and lets out a chuckle.

  Once we’re back at the house, I pause for a moment before getting ready to train. Talon takes notice and asks me what’s wrong.

  “What is it?”

  Everything is rushing back. Sparring with Blade and Talon when we were kids. Carefree children, happy, filled with dreams for the future. My heart aches thinking of Blade, how he believes I'm dead. The amount of pain he must be in...