by Sarah Dalton
She was just afraid that she would not like the man Luca was. The realisation came to her in a rush. Since her parents had died, every man Reva had known who was in a position of power, from Aron to Davead, had turned to their very worst impulses. However desperate they had been, however good their intentions, they had done terrible things.
She was afraid that if she went to Nesra’s Keep, she would see that the same thing had happened to Luca. In her head, he was still thirteen years old and sickly, but he had returned at the head of a Xanti army and had fought his way to the keep. There were rumours, too, that he had killed his brother Matias, and no one knew what had happened to Stefan. He was no longer in the keep, but no one had announced his death, either.
Clearly, Luca had already changed. She was afraid to see how much.
There was a creak from the hallway, and Reva’s head turned at once, every sense on high alert. Since her escape from the Gardens of Anios, she had spent almost every night in fear for her life, waking to the sound of branches blowing in the wind or hearing the footsteps of Aron’s family in the cave they had brought her to.
Now she tried to tell herself that this sound was nothing. The tavern below surely had people in it at all hours. Or perhaps the innkeeper was going to bed.
But the creak came again, this time closer to her door, and Reva froze. Her heart had started to pound. She was terribly afraid all of a sudden. Who would know she was here? Had someone in the tavern below seen her come upstairs alone? Had Sam and Carlia come to get revenge for what had happened to their parents?
Or was it something worse? Was it the Ulezi?
Reva forced herself to breathe. She must not panic. This was nothing, she told herself firmly. Nothing at all.
Except now she could hear whispers right outside her door. Reva slowly pushed herself upright so as not to let the bed creak. She glanced around, her mind racing. She had no proper weapons. She barely had any strength at all, though she was better fed than she had been at the Gardens of Anios.
She could not fight whomever was out there. It was a bitter realisation. Though she had hopes for Luca’s reign, being a Menti was still outlawed. If she were to transform, tales would spread to the Brothers and Sisters of the Enlightened, and they would surely come for her. A dragon? Oh, yes, they would come.
So Reva had to run. She reached out with one hand and began to ease the window latch open. There were more creaks outside, and more whispers, but she had to focus on this. Move slowly and silently, she told herself; do not give them any reason to come bursting in yet. The latch was sticky, and she had to lever herself up slowly to stand and wrap her skirt around it so she could jerk it open without making too much of a sound.
The window was narrow, but Reva was slight. She stepped up onto the deep sill and tried to ease the window open. It squeaked a little, and she heard the whispers outside cease. In desperation, she yawned loudly and kicked at the mattress a few times so that they might think she had turned over and gone back to sleep. Hopefully, that would keep them for a few more seconds.
She peered out the window and saw the drop below. There was no ledge and no real handholds for her to climb. In the rain, everything would be slippery.
Which meant she had to drop, and hope she would not be too injured to run once she had. She checked the alleyway below for anyone waiting there and eased herself out. It was an awkward process, and her skirt hitched up around her waist.
She was just trying to figure out how to lever herself down to her fingertips when the doorknob turned and the door began to open. Reva was sure she heard the sound of a hiss.
In that one pivotal moment, she did not think at all. She kicked against the outside wall of the inn and shoved herself backwards. It was pure instinct that led her to try to push away, and instinct again that had her grasping desperately at the sill as her body realised it was falling.
And it was instinct that made her start to transform. She half-turned into her dragon form, tried to stop herself, and landed hard on the cobblestones below. Whether it was the momentary snap of her wings or simply luck, she did not know, but after the first jarring moment of pain, she could tell that nothing was broken.
There was a shout above, and Reva pushed herself up and ran. She was near the walls of Reyalon, as she had been afraid to go farther into the city and perhaps come across Brothers and Sisters of the Enlightened—or more plague victims. Sam had told her that her dragon blood would make her more resistant to the plague, but Reva did not want to take any chances.
Now she ran with her bare feet slapping on the cobblestones and the wind and rain loud in her ears. Was anyone following her? She could not hear them if so. She ran, praying that no guard at the gates would mistake her for a thief. She had to get out of the city….
She skidded to a stop, panting. If she left the city, she would have no protection at all from the Ulezi. No one would come to her aid.
She looked around herself again, however, and knew the brutal truth. No one would save her here, either. If she was truly being pursued by monsters, no one in this exhausted, war-torn, plague-ridden city would put themselves in even more danger to help Reva. At least in the countryside, she could transform.
And so, as she saw two figures come around a distant corner, Reva sprinted for the gates and out into the night. She waited until she was sure the guards could no longer see her, and then she ripped off her dress and transformed, flying off into the night with her wings beating strong against the rain.
Luca
In the council chambers of Nesra’s Keep, Luca sat awkwardly in his father’s chair and tried not to feel like an imposter.
He had never expected to be the king. No one had ever expected him to be the king. With an heir like Matias, who in their right mind would have looked to any of the other children—let alone one who had been on his deathbed for most of his childhood? Luca had not minded that, particularly. He liked Matias. Everyone liked Matias. Not to mention, he had been more concerned with his own impending death than anything else.
Now he was here, though—and not because the other heirs to the throne had passed away and been buried in state, only for Luca to be crowned. No, he had come at the head of a Xanti fleet and fought his way through the streets of his own home to take the castle by force. His brother, who had been crowned king, was on the run.
And everyone wanted Luca to behave as if this was completely normal, and make the sort of wise, measured decisions they expected from a king who had been on the throne for years, as Luca’s father had been.
So far today, they had discussed how Luca’s return would be spoken of, how to combat the rumours Stefan and the Order of Insight had spread about Luca, and methods of plague relief. Serena had spoken passionately on the last point, detailing medicines and plans for teams of doctors to travel the countryside. Though it was clear she had worked with the Xanti in the matter of medicine, Lord Tinian had not seemed pleased when she spoke. They had disagreed on some points.
Luca realised that all of the council was staring at him. He must have missed something. His eyes travelled over the assembled group: Brother Axil, Lord Tinian, Commander Ingran, General Arenza, Lord Zimin, and his sister, Serena. Though Serena had been graceful enough about it, General Arenza and Lord Zimin were still prickly about members of the Gold Council sitting in on Luca’s meetings.
Luca swallowed awkwardly. He did not dare look at Brother Axil. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What did you ask?”
Brother Axil furrowed his brow in annoyance. “Lord Tinian asked about the profits from the Gardens of Anios.” He cast a glance at Lord Tinian, and Luca realised the annoyance was with the Xanti Councillor, not with him.
“What are the Gardens of Anios?” Luca asked.
Brother Axil settled back in his chair and nodded at Lord Tinian to explain. There was a sardonic expression on his face—as if, Luca realised, Brother Axil knew that Luca would not like what he was about to hear. It was a level of politicking that Luca
had never seen from the Brother, though he had known that Axil was well-versed in the ways of the court.
Lord Tinian, however, took the matter gracefully. “The Gardens of Anios, Your Majesty, are—”
“Highness,” Luca said.
Lord Tinian paused. He inclined his head in a polite show of not understanding.
“I am not crowned,” Luca said. “My brother has been crowned, and he has not been apprehended. I am not the king. I am Prince Luca.”
There was an awkward silence. Luca looked around the room. Expressions were carefully blank. Serena’s expression was impassive, as though she was not sure what to think.
“Of course,” Tinian said after a moment. “Prince Luca, the Gardens of Anios are estates where any number of export goods are produced. Olives, citrus fruits, herbs and medicines—”
“Such as the medicines for the plague?” Luca interrupted. He glanced across at Serena, who had leaned forward in interest.
Lord Tinian seemed pleased. He smiled. “Yes, Prince Luca. Like those medicines. Your father ordered the camps established, and they have provided immense profits to Estala ever since.”
Luca was pleased. After the grim assessment of Estala’s treasury, this was good news.
“Your Highness,” Brother Axil said warningly. “Your father established the camps with two purposes. One was to produce goods at very low cost.” There was clearly a lot of meaning in his words, though Luca was not sure what it was. “The other reason, which was far more important to your father, was to create a prison…for the Menti.”
The bottom seemed to fall out of Luca’s stomach. He looked sharply at Tinian.
Tinian spread his hands with a courtier’s shrug. “It is true that the workers at the Gardens of Anios—”
“Are slaves,” Brother Axil interrupted.
Lord Tinian paused for a moment, his eyes deliberately turned from Axil, and then he continued. “It is true that they are Menti.”
“Prince Luca,” Brother Axil said, “these slaves are captured, taken from their homes by force, marched in chains across the countryside, and worked until they die. They are abused—”
“With respect, Governor, can you be sure of the conditions in the camps?” Lord Tinian’s voice was cool and reasonable.
“They are slaves,” Axil said again. “The camp was made to be a prison. King Davead was famous for his hatred of Menti. I do not need to see the camps to know how well the Menti there are treated.”
“Governor, please—”
“Both of you, stop.” Luca lifted his chin, and both men fell silent in surprise. Luca’s eyes roamed across the room, taking in the expressions of every council member. “Slavery is not the Estalan way, nor will the Menti continue to be persecuted here. The Gardens of Anios will be shut down, and those who participated in running them will face justice.”
In the silence, he noticed Serena begin to smile. She nodded at him.
“Prince Luca, this would be a mistake,” Tinian told him firmly. “You will bring many good changes during the years of your reign, but to make too many, too fast, would be to make enemies. The people have been taught for decades that the Menti are their enemies. There would be a panic if the Menti from the camps were to be released among the populace. The riots might take the lives of those same Menti.”
“You speak of possibilities—” Axil began heatedly.
“My mind is made up,” Luca said again. “I am Menti. My brother was also Menti. The people must accept that the Menti are not what my father feared, and I refuse to accept slavery within Estala. The council is dismissed for today.”
The rest of the council murmured their assent and began to leave.
“Prince Luca, if I might have a word?” Tinian’s voice was respectful. He inclined his head and waited for Luca’s decision.
Luca wanted to say no and leave, but he knew he could not do that. That was a childish way to do things. He had to rule.
“Of course, Lord Tinian. I will be with you in a moment.”
Brother Axil paused on his way out of the room when Tinian spoke, and Luca made his way to the Governor.
“Yes?” he asked Axil.
“I’d tell you to be careful with Lord Tinian,” Axil said bluntly, “but I think you know that already.”
“I do.” Luca nodded.
“Promise him nothing,” Axil warned.
“I will not.” Luca shook his head, although he had sudden worries of what Tinian might say. The man had a way of speaking so that suddenly, everything Luca did not want to do seemed like the only option.
“And, Luca.”
“Yes?”
“What you said before, about being a prince and not a king….” Axil hesitated. “Be careful to whom you say that, and how loudly you proclaim it.”
“But it is true,” Luca argued. “I am not the king.”
“I believe that if it had been a choice between you and Stefan, your father might have chosen you,” Axil said. He folded his hands before him and took a deep breath. “Despite the fact that you were a Menti. Even though he did not make that choice, even though Stefan killed him—yes, Luca, I believe that is what happened—and even though Stefan was crowned, you sit on the throne now, and you are a better ruler than Stefan was.”
“But I am not,” Luca said miserably. “I do not know how to be king. How to rule.” He was abruptly conscious of Tinian hovering behind them. “I have to go.”
“Luca.” Axil took his hand. “We do not always win things the way we want to. You came with a Xanti fleet. You have not been crowned yet. This is correct. But you must show the people that you are the rightful ruler. That you believe you are the rightful ruler.”
He left with a faint bow, and Luca stared after him. How could he show the people that he was the rightful ruler when he did not feel like one? Matias had always been the heir, Stefan wore the crown, and Serena had spoken so much more eloquently at the meeting than Luca had.
He did not believe it.
He walked back to Lord Tinian and tried not to feel like an imposter. He haughtily lifted his chin as he thought his father might have done—and then, because he thought his father might have done it, he went to his chair and sat.
“What can I help you with, Lord Tinian?”
“Your Highness”—Tinian carefully used the title Luca had insisted upon—“I believe you should rethink your decision regarding the Gardens of Anios.”
Luca’s fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. “My decision on that is final. The slaves will be released. The camps will be shut down. The clerics and guards will face punishment.”
“Your Highness,” Lord Tinian said again, and this time there was a warning in his voice. “To be a king is to make decisions that will cause distress to a minority. It is an unavoidable fact about the world.”
“What harm would come from treating our citizens as if they are, indeed, our citizens?” Luca leaned forward in his chair. His face was hot. “The Gardens of Anios—”
“Generate enormous profits that sustain many things within Estala,” Lord Tinian said strongly. “Your sister’s plans for healing this country will not be cheap, Your Highness. Nor will it be cheap to maintain the forces you will need to track down your brother and defeat him. The Gardens of Anios produce food that could feed the hungry of Estala, and bandages and medicines that could help with the plague. Say what you will about the methods of the camp, but they have generated significant profits for Estala before, and they can do so again.”
Luca bit his lip.
“Your Highness,” Tinian said. He did not remain on the attack. His voice was kind. “You are a fair man. Your father commanded that the Gardens of Anios be built. Do you think it is fair to imprison and punish the ones who followed their king’s orders?”
How did Tinian do this? Luca considered, but he could see no way out of the trap Tinian had built. The man was correct: it was not fair to punish those who had followed his father’s orders. He simply did not
see how anyone could have volunteered for such a job. It was not as if his father had ordered any specific person to serve as a Sister of the Enlightened or a guard at the Gardens, was it?
“Prince Luca,” Tinian told him, “I meant what I said before, that to be a king is to serve the good of your kingdom. Sometimes, the good of a kingdom is at odds with the good of an individual. In a time of war, there must be soldiers to fight. Right now, Estala needs both the goods and the funds the Gardens of Anios provide. Your brother beggared this country, Prince Luca.”
You do not want us to be rich so that Estala will prosper. You want us to be rich so you will prosper. Luca thought the words resentfully, though he did not say them.
“Perhaps, when Stefan has been defeated, the Gardens of Anios may be shut down,” Tinian suggested. He spread his hands with a smile. “It is a process not to be undertaken lightly, but we can find a way. I am sure of it.”
Luca stared down at his lap. His head was spinning. He was not sure anymore of the right thing to do.
“The Gardens of Anios can produce many of the medicines we need to combat the plague,” Tinian suggested. He took a seat without being asked and leaned forward to catch Luca’s eyes. “With distribution centres all around Estala, we can reach victims of the plague faster and cure more people.”
Luca wished desperately that he was anywhere else. He did not want this to be his choice to make. What would his father do? Of course, he knew what his father would have done. His father had created the Gardens of Anios, because he had seen no use for Menti lives. Because he had viewed Menti as an abomination and a threat.
Luca swallowed. He had never had the chance to make his father see the world differently.
Tinian waited. He seemed to know that pressing Luca for a decision would be counterproductive.
Finally, Luca said in a small voice, “We will command the Gardens of Anios to produce cures for the plague.”
Tinian gave a small sigh. “A wise choice, Your Majesty.”
Luca caught the title. He glanced sharply at Tinian but forced himself not to correct him. “We will also send hand-picked members of the army to make sure that no abuse of the prisoners is occurring.”
