Choice

by Andrea Loredo

  They wandered down hallway after hallway, killing Corian soldiers and looking for their loved ones. They took a left, avoiding the main entrance of the castle and the throne room in favor of searching the private rooms reserved for the royal family.

  Mirele clenched hir jaw as the pain flared up again and quickened their pace. A scream suddenly cut through the heavy atmosphere of the hallway.

  Shahira.

  Mirele ran, ignoring Salah's shout. Frantically, ze opened every door and checked every corner until ze threw open the door to the library.

  Ten Corian soldiers, one of them a knight, if the helmet was any indication, were locked in combat with a number of guards. And slumped against the far bookshelf was Seneca de Granius, second prince of Navio, a blade in his stomach. Shahira knelt over her brother, sobbing loudly.

  For a brief moment, Mirele could only feel the relief washing over hir. Shahira didn't seem hurt. But that relief vanished quickly as ze locked eyes with one of the soldiers and charged, seeing red.

  Mirele didn't give into anger in battle. Ze was no berserker, the famed warriors of the southern nation of Kulonn who used rage as a weapon deadlier than any axe. At this moment, however, all ze could think about was protecting Shahira.

  Hir dragon tooth and steel blade met opposing blades with resounding clangs, cleaved through leather like it was soft cream, and struck weak points on the body with loud squelches.

  The sound of a horn being blown shook Mirele out of hir battle haze. Ze hadn't noticed Lucia and Salah enter the library and join the fight. Most of the Corian soldiers lay on the floor, dead along with half of the guards. The Corian knight inched backwards, the horn in one hand and an axe in the other. Another soldier had her back flush against the far window.

  "Reinforcements will come," the knight said, voice wavering and diminishing the impact of his words.

  "Let them," Mirele growled. Ze charged forward towards the soldier and slammed hir shield into her chest, knocking her off-balance and cracking the glass of the window. With a swift kick to the stomach, Mirele sent the soldier tumbling out of the window, the soldier's screams fading as she fell. Mirele turned to face the knight. "They will fall like she did."

  The knight's eyes widened, and he lifted his blade higher. In a flash, the blade clattered to the floor, and Lucia held her own blade at the knight's neck, the tip of it pressing just hard enough against the skin to draw blood. "What's your name, churl?"

  Bristling at the insult, the knight retorted, "Ser Faris Bantius."

  "Who ordered this assault on the castle?" Salah asked.

  Faris grimaced and remained silent.

  "Think carefully." Mirele approached the man. "Silence has cost many a life in the past."

  His eyes glanced down to hir sword, over to the window, and back up to Mirele. "D-Duchess Zaman," he stuttered. "Duchess Oliva Zaman. She gave the order to Knight-Captain Haman, who organized the soldiers and knights to march on the castle tonight under the cover of darkness. Some servants were bribed with gold and the promise of safety in exchange for maps of the castle and passageways."

  "Why?"

  "To eliminate the royal family and everyone here. We were told—"

  "I don't care." Lucia cut Faris off. "I'm sure you were fed some bullshit to help you sleep at night, but I don't care." She pushed the blade through his throat, and he fell to the floor with a gurgle.

  As his body collapsed, Mirele turned on hir heel and made a beeline for Shahira, who was still bent over Seneca's body. Ze knelt down beside her, throwing hir shield and sword to the floor. "Princess," Mirele breathed.

  Shahira looked up, eyes red from crying. "Mirele, you're…" She choked out before throwing her arms around hir, not caring that Mirele's armor was coated in blood. The sound of her sobs filled the room. Mirele rubbed hir hand in circles over Shahira's upper back, holding her close. "They killed him. Those men killed my brother!"

  Salah took a knee beside Seneca's body and took off the leather gloves he wore. He ran his bare hand over Seneca's eyes, closing them. His head bowed, Salah whispered a few words of prayer, the ones the priests spoke at funerals so that the spirits might accept the soul of the deceased.

  "We should take that blade out of him," Lucia murmured as she came to stand beside Salah.

  Salah nodded and pulled his glove back on. With a sharp pull, he wrenched the blade free from Seneca's stomach. "I'm sorry that you had to see that, Your Highness."

  Shahira pulled away from Mirele and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress before running a hand through her short dark hair. "I— It's fine." She took a deep breath.

  "We need to get you out of here, Princess." Mirele stood and proffered hir hand. "Can you stand, Your Highness?"

  Shahira nodded and took Mirele's hand, standing a little shakily.

  Mirele's ears twitched as ze could hear a low rumbling sound approaching. A dull throb of pain began spreading across hir right side. "Can you hear that?" Ze looked over to Salah and Lucia. More soldiers were approaching. "We need to leave now."

  Lucia and Salah exchanged a long look before Lucia shook her head. "No, we still have people to find. You need to get the princess out of here. We'll buy you time."

  "You can't die for me!" Shahira stepped forward. "Enough already have," she whispered as she cast a glance downwards towards Seneca and over to the other guards. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

  "It is our duty, Your Highness," Salah said, smiling sadly. "I am an aging man. It would be my honor to give my life for others."

  Mirele stepped forward and clasped Salah and then Lucia on the forearm. "Fight gloriously, my friends."

  Swallowing back the lump that formed in hir throat, Mirele slung hir shield over hir back, grabbed Shahira's hand, and exited the library. There they were greeted by a large host of Corian soldiers. Mirele cursed internally and ran in the opposite direction, pushing Shahira in front of hir. As they ran, Mirele could hear Lucia shouting, "Come on, you bastards!"

  *~*~*

  Thankfully, hir horse was still tied outside the secret passage, with all of its supplies. Mirele threw Shahira on Duha in front of hir and spurred the chestnut warhorse on.

  They rode as fast as Duha's legs could take them, as far south as possible, away from Coria and Pasmyral and all of the violence that threatened Shahira's safety.

  Mirele wasn't sure how far they had ridden when ze suggested they should stop. Shahira only nodded slowly in response. She hadn't spoken the entire trip. Mirele couldn't fault her.

  They stood under a few trees, surrounded by brush. Beyond them stretched a great expanse of hills. Dawn's early light peeked over the horizon.

  Despite not being very religious, Mirele breathed a prayer of thanks to the spirits that Duha still had supplies on him as ze unloaded the bedroll from the rear of the saddle and took the large skin of water from his side. Ze approached Shahira, who had immediately sunk to the grassy floor and pulled her knees in close, resting her chin on them. "Princess," ze said softly, kneeling beside her. "You must drink some water and rest."

  Shahira didn't answer for a long time, only taking a swig of water and returning it to Mirele. Mirele didn't press her, only laying out the bedroll for her and fetching a piece of dried meat from hir saddle-side satchel for her to eat. Shahira finally spoke as Mirele was feeding Duha, almost making hir drop the apple in their hand.

  "They're all dead, aren't they?"

  Mirele didn't know what to say to that. Lie and tell her no? Or tell the truth and confirm that her family was most likely dead. Ze pinched the bridge of hir nose; ze never could tell a lie to Shahira. "Yes, Your Highness." Ze walked over and sat down beside Shahira. "I'm sorry," Mirele added in a softer voice.

  "Spirits damn it all." Shahira slammed her hand into the grass. Tears began falling down her cheeks. "Why? Why did my family have to die, Mirele? They're all gone. Father, mother, my brothers."

  "Princess…"

  "No!" Shahira turned to face hir, da
rk eyes alight and shining with tears. "Don't call me that," she whispered. "I'm not a princess anymore. Why'd it take this to finally rid me of that title?" She shook her head violently and fell silent, aside from her sobs.

  Mirele didn't know what to do. How did you comfort the person you loved more than anything when their entire family had been slaughtered? My own parents died when I was but a teen. What did I want to be told then? Ze frowned, looking off to the side. I just threw myself into my training.

  "I watched Seneca die in front of me. I cradled his body. His blood still stains my hands and dress," Shahira whispered. "How do I move on from this? What do I do, Mirele?"

  "I don't know," Mirele admitted.

  "What did you do when your parents passed?"

  Mirele didn't answer immediately. "I focused on my training as a knight. It was an escape; I ran away." Ze clenched hir gauntleted fist. Ze shouldn't be talking about hir own issues now.

  Shahira sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I'm going to try to sleep, though I doubt I'll be able to," she muttered.

  "Good night," Mirele murmured, steeling hirself for the next few hours of watch ze would need to keep. Who knew when ze would be able to sleep next.

  II

  By Mirele's accounts, it had been a week since the massacre of the royal family.

  They had arrived at the tiny town (more of a large collection of buildings in Mirele's opinion) of Isca close to dawn that day. For the past week, they had been riding under the cover of darkness, hoping to evade any and all that might come searching for them and surviving off the small bag of dried meats Mirele had. Thankfully, Mirele had managed to catch some small game during their travels and refill hir waterskin at a stream they followed.

  Isca lay in the southernmost province of the kingdom of Navio, Serdica. Mirele hoped the village's small size would help them maintain their anonymity. Since that first night, Mirele had taken off hir armor, thinking that silver and gold armor made of steel and dragon bone would make hir too conspicuous, and only kept on the padded leathers ze wore underneath. Shahira had since washed the blood out of her dress and changed into a spare tunic and leggings Mirele had in hir pack. The clothes were a little big for her, given Mirele's taller and more muscular stature, but she wore them anyway. Mirele thought she was just glad to be out of the dress. Before all this, Shahira had always loudly complained about being forced to wear the garments.

  Speaking of Shahira… Mirele wiped the sweat from hir brow. "Where is she?" ze murmured to themselves, looking around.

  The noon sun hung overhead, its rays beating down on people as they went about their business. It was unnaturally hot for being the middle of autumn. Mirele didn't care too much for the heat; it reminded hir too much of a dragon's fire.

  Mirele was currently chopping firewood for the local tavern (lovingly named The Red Dun after the owner's horse) in exchange for dinner for Shahira and hirself. Ze didn't want to spend all of the coin ze had on hir immediately. Spirits, I was lucky that I even thought to bring coin with me when I left for Coria. Five gold coins should last us for some time, I hope.

  "Thirsty? You look it." Mirele turned around to find Shahira, dressed in a new beige tunic, dark green leggings, and brown boots. She was holding a waterskin. "Chopping wood in the middle of the day doesn't seem to be a good idea," she added cheerfully.

  Taking the waterskin with a mumbled thanks, Mirele looked at Shahira while she talked about the apothecary in town. She had hardly talked during their weeklong journey to Isca, and Mirele's worry for her had only been increasing. But now, she seemed more like her usual self: cheery, witty, and eager. Mirele knew Shahira well enough to know that she wasn't all right. Who would be able to come to terms with the murder of their family so quickly? Yet Mirele also knew not to press the issue—Shahira hated that.

  "Where did you get the new clothes?" Mirele asked, handing back the waterskin.

  "Oh, these?" Shahira looked down at herself. "The apothecary gave them to me in exchange for me helping him with his potions. I mentioned that I was in need of some new garments, and he gave me these as payment." She shrugged. "I think he was surprised that someone so young knew so much about botany."

  A faint smile touched the edges of Mirele's lips. "You are not that young, Your Royal Majesty."

  Shahira rolled her eyes. "Please don't."

  "What? You are twenty-three, if I am not mistaken. That is not too young, I think." Mirele's smile only grew.

  Huffing, Shahira crossed her arms. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." She gave Mirele a softhearted glare. "Anyway, I spent all my time, or tried to, gardening and messing around with plants and studying magic. Of course I know a lot."

  "It still impresses me," Mirele said honestly. When wasn't ze impressed with Shahira? I guess that's what it means to be in love, no?

  What a fool ze was for entertaining such thoughts for someone so above hir station.

  Shahira smiled. "Thanks." Her eyes flickered up and down Mirele's body and then quickly looked away. "Ah, I'm hungry, aren't you?" She rubbed her forearm.

  Mirele blinked a few times and then nodded. "I need to take these," ze jerked hir hand towards the pile of wood, "to the proprietor of the tavern anyway, so I will follow you."

  "Like you ever let me out of your sight."

  "For good reason."

  Shahira again rolled her eyes and walked off towards The Red Dun. Mirele set the axe against the nearby fence and gathered the wood in hir arms. As ze followed Shahira, ze prayed that what ze saw was not a trick of the light. I don't know what I'm more scared of: her not returning my affections, or her actually appreciating my body like I thought I saw her do.

  *~*~*

  "I don't know what to do," Shahira said as they entered their shared room. A table and a chair were off to one side of the room, while a bunk bed was on the other side. Mirele was happy that they didn't have to share a bed. Ze weren't sure ze would be able to survive that.

  "Of what do you speak, Princess?" Mirele asked. Ze took a seat in the empty chair while Shahira sat on the bottom bunk.

  Shahira groaned. "That!"

  Mirele furrowed hir brows. "What?"

  "Being a princess, though I'm not that any longer," Shahira said bitterly. Mirele didn't want to tell her that she was right, though not in the way she wanted: she was actually the rightful queen. "You know how much I hated being a princess, how I hated being confined to that role for my entire life."

  "I do."

  "I wanted nothing more than to be free of all that, ugh, that bullshit!" Shahira gripped the sheets she sat on. "But why did it have to be like this? My family's dead. They're gone." She hurriedly wiped at her cheeks. "And I can't stop crying about it."

  "You shouldn't be able to stop crying," Mirele said gently. "Your family is gone, far too soon. Anyone would be broken up over that, I think."

  Shahira didn't look so sure. "But part of me is grateful," she whispered, barely loud enough for Mirele to hear.

  "Grateful?"

  Shahira gave a dark sort of chuckle. "I'm free. I'm not tied to the life of a princess anymore. It's everything I've ever wanted. Just not the way I wanted it."

  Mirele understood. Shahira had frequently confided in hir how she longed to run away from it all, from the life into which she'd been forced. All she wanted was to garden and study her magic, not politick and mingle with self-absorbed nobles.

  "I could leave it all behind." She stared out of the window longingly. "Like I've always wanted." She sighed. "What about you, Mirele?"

  "Me?" What was she getting at?

  "You're free, too. You're not bound to me anymore because I'm not a princess anymore."

  Mirele frowned. "You're mistaken. I swore an oath to protect you. That will never break, regardless of our circumstances." A knight's oath was unbreakable, and that was only a little of what bound Mirele to Shahira.

  The glare Shahira sent hir almost made Mirele flinch. "You don't get it. I'm not a princess anymore. You swo
re an oath to someone who no longer exists. It's gone."

  Hir chest tightened in fear. What is she doing? Is she sending me away?

  "I'm not that person anymore," Shahira repeated. "You shouldn't have to serve me." She swallowed, but tears still flowed freely down her cheeks. "You should be free, too." She looked down and said again, more softly this time, "You should be free."

  "Oh," Mirele breathed. She cannot know what that would do to me. Ze stood and grabbed hir sword and knelt in front of Shahira. "My lady, you know not what your words do to me." Ze spoke softly, placing hir hand over Shahira's. "I understand what you wish for, but that is something that can never happen." Shahira opened her mouth to speak, but Mirele continued on, propping hir sword in front of hir and placing both hands around the scabbard. "I, Mirele Heine, knight in name only now, do swear upon my life to protect you, Shahira de Granius, princess of none and bearer of no title. I will not be your Guardian or knight, but rather a friend who would rather die than see any harm befall you, and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and content. Know that if I fail, my life is forfeit. This I swear to you upon all that I am."

  The entire time Mirele kept hir gaze locked with Shahira's. Her eyes had grown wide, and her mouth was slightly agape. "I— What?"

  "Do you accept, Shahira?" Bereft of any titles, the name tasted odd on Mirele's tongue, but ze thought ze liked it.

  Shahira stared at Mirele, or through hir, searching for something within hir. After what felt like an eternity, though it was probably no more than a minute, Shahira pulled Mirele's blade from its sheath and tapped both of Mirele's shoulders with the flat side. "I accept your oath, Mirele Heine. Now rise." Her voice shook as she spoke.

  Mirele rose, only to be engulfed in a tight hug as Shahira threw her arms around hir, hir sword clattering to the floor. "Thank you," she murmured into Mirele's shoulder.

  "No thanks are necessary."

  She pulled away. "They are. You didn't have to do that. I was trying to give you an out. Maybe you wanted to leave or something. I don't know." She took in a shaky breath. "But you didn't. Why?"