The Caged Kingdom

by M A Price

  Fifty - Katanya

  It was the crying that pulled her forward. It wasn't the sound of easy tears, but wretched sobs.

  She’d been hiding in these walls for three moons, scurrying from the kitchens whenever a chance arrived, blending in as much as she could.

  There had been no clues so far, no idea of who Becca’s friend had been. Whether everyone supported what was happening here, simply turned a blind eye or were too scared to say anything, Katanya hadn’t quite worked out.

  What she did know was that things were much worse than she’d thought. Worse than the Guild knew.

  The Unforgiven were all over the palace.

  You could tell from the way they walked, the unnatural qualities to their voice, and the way that all obeyed their every command. The power that radiated from their body was impressive; and suffocating. It made her own power want to curl up and hide. The heat it usually provided her gone and replaced with an unshakeable coldness.

  It brought back horrible recollections of her time in the Torlung Facility and the number they had branded on her neck kept troubling her sleep. She had cut the brand out herself as soon as she was free.

  Her shift in the kitchen had ended a few hours ago. Kress, the only one there who seemed to have any semblance of a personality, had wanted to eat with her afterwards; some part of Kress’ naivety had appealed to Katanya. As if being near her made her feel a little younger herself, a little less burdened. It reminded her of Mara and what she was fighting for.

  She asked Kress questions, but no useful answers came. She seemed to have no notion of the enemy walking around the halls above her.

  She’d guffawed when Katanya mentioned The Unforgiven.

  “Those fairy tales? You’re far too pretty and intelligent to listen to such twaddle!” She’d wanted to shake some sense into her; the naivety losing its novelty.

  After she’d rushed back to the tiny room she had been given, barely large enough to swing a clorix in, she changed quickly after a vigorous wash. The smell of the kitchens seemed to cling to her long hair and she didn’t dare think about how dry and stale it looked. Ordinarily she would use her power to return it to its glory and shine but…that seemed a bit dangerous and frivolous in the current circumstances.

  She still considered it, more than once.

  Walking the palace, avoiding The Unforgiven, and looking for anyone that seemed not completely happy with this place had led her to the crying. It was coming from the end of the corridor. She could hear muffled voices too; a man’s, maybe two.

  They all seemed to speak in the same Tonkaran twang, impossible to tell apart. It was infuriating.

  She moved her body against the stone wall and slid further towards the noise.

  This floor was rarely used by servants so if they found her, she had no idea what she could say or do. It seemed to include extravagant chambers owned by the top-tier inhabitants of the palace.

  It was her first time on this level and the sheer self-indulgence had already given her a throbbing headache.

  Her best bet would be to pretend she had been visiting some lord that lived here; the only problem being she had no idea who did. Wouldn’t they all have pompous, ridiculous names?

  She reached down and pulled her knife from her knee-high leather boots and clutched it in her right hand as she crept. She was nearly at the end of the wall and the tears were louder, more primal.

  They came from the chamber to the left. All she had to do was move her head and she could see their origin. Her senses were already telling her the door was wide open. The answer at her fingertips. Perhaps it could lead to the ally and reason she was here. More than likely she would be seen with a knife in her hand, somewhere she was never meant to be, watching some lady sob over her lordling lover.

  Life hadn’t left her with many choices. You could seek out new ones; but most of the time you just learnt to deal with the horrors it sent your way.

  She took a breath as she raised her knife and darted her head around the wall.

  A lavish room decorated in bright feverish colours and couches bigger than Katanya had ever seen lay on the other side. On one of the grey chaises, yellow cushions piled up all around her, sat the Queen.

  There was no crown on her head and her face was scarlet and blotched with tears. A long line of purple ran under each eye and she wore a pale maroon gown which seemed to hang off her frail body. She certainly hadn’t looked like this in the one distant glimpse of her Katanya had seen her on first evening here. The Queen shared the room with two men. was in the room with what seemed to be two men. One was wearing the uniform of a King’s Man, the red and the black leathers ruining her usual favourite colours. He didn’t seem to move like all the others though, even off duty they seemed to be in formation, always ready for an order.

  This man moved like a wounded animal that was desperate not to be seen as he paced behind the chaise. There was a drop in his shoulders that seemed so at odd with the uniform he wore. The prowl reminded her oddly of Camrin's gait.

  The other sat on a chest across from his mother. She couldn’t see his face but she recognised the shoulder length hair, black as night, and the velvet black jacket he was wearing. She’d seen him in the kitchens only that morning, been mildly impressed that he came to fetch his own meal and surprised at his strikingly chiselled face.

  He looked nothing like his bulging large nosed father.

  The King’s sandy hair, shaved face, and bulbous snout didn’t make him a handsome man. Reyn Landress’ incredibly dark trimmed beard and perfectly proportioned face did.

  At least she would have something to look at…

  She could even imagine Mara prattling on about handsome princes from a story or one of Idyn's lectures about him being perfect for a vampire role in Earth's ancient films.

  He was still a Landress.

  Still one of the men who had murdered Becca.

  Beauty certainly didn't equal a good heart.

  The soldier arched in her direction and she pulled herself back against the wall.

  Her knife had slipped, and the blade cut into her palm, but she barely noticed. If they saw her now there would be no flimsy excuse and her papers certainly wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny from any of the people in that room.

  A guard gate was a very different thing to a queen, royal prince or favoured guard.

  She should run, forget seeing any of this…

  But…whatever was happening in that room could be important. This was the only thing so far that had given her a lead.

  She edged as far as she dared to the corner of the wall again and tried to listen, her body safely hidden. If that soldier saw her or the Queen raised her head at the wrong moment…

  “I don’t know what to do mother, if there’s anything, if you tell me I can help as much as I am able. You know that.”

  “There is nothing Reyn. He isn’t the man I married, and I’ve lost two of my children already, I can’t lose a third. It won’t be long before they come for me. You know that.”

  “They won’t. He might not be a good man, but he loved you.”

  “He loved me a long time ago Reyn, that love is gone now. He isn't the same person. I’ve failed miserably at hiding my disapproval or how I feel about any of this. Once the serum is ready for general use he will inject me with it. A new, more agreeable model.” A loud huff. "I'm quite certain he would get rid of me entirely if it wouldn't cause an uproar."

  That was the moment the knife slipped from her hand; droplets of blood falling with it as it clanged on the marble floor.

  They opposed the serum…The Queen opposed the King…

  She heard them moving towards her before she could even bend down to retrieve the knife.

  Katanya had heard more than she ever imagined. Information that would be vital to Ivloch and The Guild. It would have been a resounding success, if it wasn’t about to cost her, her life…

  Fifty-One - Mara

  She kissed Idyn again,
her hand sliding across his broad chest and down his arm.

  She still wasn’t used to the sight of him without a shirt on, but it was definitely something she enjoyed.

  He pulled her closer, her body half on his, the sleeping furs lost to the bottom of the canvas tent.

  “Mara, I…” his breath was rushed, stolen words between kisses. She could feel how much he wanted her as he pressed into her thigh.

  “I want this Idyn,” she whispered, pulling herself on top of him. He looked up at her, eyes wide.

  “I’ve never…” he stammered “I’ve never done this before.”

  “I’m not an expert myself, but I’m glad we get to find out together.”

  She unlaced the ribbon that held her dark tunic together and heard him gasp as she pulled it free from her shoulders.

  She’d worried about him seeing her. All the insecurities she’d held onto for so long. The way her stomach always felt too round, her breasts never quite the way she believed they should be, but Idyn gave her courage and she didn’t want to be the scared little girl anymore.

  Everything that could be shared with him, should be.

  She would always worry but there were no promises of tomorrow. They should enjoy this whilst they could.

  He was gazing at her with so much desire it sent a chill down her spine. A familiar want ran through her body, one that had felt forced before, but no felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  They spent the rest of the night entwined in one-another.

  Slowly, faster and then to explore.

  She let him kiss, lick and feel every part of her, and returned the favour with vigorous interest.

  Afterwards, she lay in his arms, sweat sticking her face to his chest. The furs hadn’t been retrieved.

  She moved to roll onto her back, and he leaned on one arm over her.

  “You’re beautiful Mara Lars.” Her initial urge was to grab something to cover herself, but she let his eyes linger, only flinching as he moved his hand to the Mark across her abdomen. A larger copy of the one on her wrist.

  “It’s part of you Mara, I’m pretty fond of every part of you.” He straddled her as he spoke and kissed along the lines. The flow of the K, the sword, the barrier, the crown…

  And then his lips moved lower…

  Fifty-Two - Camrin

  He couldn’t sleep again. He’d tried. He’d also attempted reading and going for a walk, even a night cap.

  Nothing worked.

  He was worrying about Kat, he knew that much. He was also horribly envious that she got to do something, and not just sit and wait. He understood why she was a better choice; but he didn’t have to like it.

  He was also lonely. Painfully lonely.

  Thoughts of Elex and Becca played on his mind and he had…adjusted to having Katanya around to talk to. Even Dexter had been busy or strangely absent the last few moons.

  Camrin Cassidy refused to be a man who had to ask for attention or company.

  He knew someone else who would be awake at this late hour and he found himself outside his pavilion after another walk. Ivloch didn’t sleep at the best of times and with the current mission and recent news…

  He didn’t knock on the canvas, but he did call out. No man deserved to be barged in on.

  “Come in,” came a muffled response. Camrin pushed through the fabric flap and found Ivloch standing near his bed packing a small bag.

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Not until morning.” Ivloch placed the bag on the floor and paced to his desk. Only a short walk for such a large man. He pulled a bottle from under it and two tankards.

  “I could do with a drink, you?”

  Camrin accepted the cup which seemed to be filled to the brim with some of Dexter’s wine. Ivloch indicated the seat across from his at the desk and Camrin took it without complaint. The wine tasted better than he remembered.

  “I was going to find you at first light, but I guess you’ve saved me the trip.”

  “First light suggests you were going to leave without telling anyone else and without a guard.”

  “How you know me well…I’m going to the Black Lands Camrin.”

  He let a noise of annoyance escape his lips. They had been sending messengers to them since before Elex’s plan with the Tonkara Facility. Begging and pleading for help. The Black Lands were notorious for living separately from Jefferson’s rule, refusing his governance and ignoring any proclamation he sent out. There was talk that many Users hid there, but also rumours that Users were killed on sight. They made the best weapons in Brodanna, but their steel had become rare, rarer still since Jefferson’s rise to power. Even in the initial days when they had been The Guild's allies.

  Their numbers were debated across the land and every moon turn brought news of Jefferson finally planning to conquer them. None had come to fruition yet but if Camrin was a betting man, which he sometimes was, he’d say the time would come soon. Once the serum was ready for mass production perhaps, and he had The Unforgiven at his back.

  They had once worked in unison, even in Ivloch’s time. That had changed before he was old enough to understand why, only hearing afterwards but the mere idea unnerved him.

  They had the power to be their greatest ally or an enemy which could rival The Unforgiven.

  “You can’t go alone. If they haven’t replied to us then they aren’t going to get involved, particularly on our side. I know they were heavily involved in The Guild when you started but…”

  Ivloch drained the cup before him. “But they might kill me as soon as I get there? I ruddy well know that. There’s a chance that some of them will remember me, Kara willing perhaps even an old friend will be there, and they know nothing of the serum. That could change things, and quite frankly do you see any other choices boy?”

  Camrin felt his back arch at the words, he sipped his wine trying to let it wash over him and to concentrate on what mattered here.

  “Let me go, I’ll take your seal. Take others with you. Just don’t go alone.”

  “The Lands respect power and authority. If I go alone and show I’m not scared of them then there is more of a chance. It has to be me. They know of me, some of them have met me, fought with me in the past.” Camrin shook his head but he understood the logic; he just hated hearing it. “You’ll be in charge whilst I’m gone. Don’t tell a soul where I’m going, not even Idyn. Tell them I needed some time after Becca, or I’ve followed Katanya. You can tell her if she’s back before me, but that is all.”

  “You’re leaving me in charge?” He couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

  Ivloch poured himself another drink. “I expect you to keep lookouts at all times. An attack could come at any moment. We’ll be moving once Kat and, hopefully, I return but to do so before then would be foolish, and this camp is well built and easy to defend. Keep constant watches and up all the training. Work them hard and fast, and make sure they’re ready. All of them.”

  “I’ll do everything you ask of me. I swear.”

  “You swore your vow as soon as you were old enough to do so. I’d expect nothing less from you, you know that. I’ll make the same deal Katanya made with me. If I’m not back in a moon turn, then worry but do not come after me. If I don’t return, in that time, it’s doubtful I ever will. I expect you not to get everyone killed.”

  Camrin promised, despite his objections. He wanted to tell him to be safe, to come back to The Guild. To thank him for leaving him in charge. Beg him not to leave like the others had. A soldier can’t say that to their commander, he reminded himself, and even if he could, the words would sound false and alien coming from his tongue.

  He meant them, more than he meant anything but he had never been a man to openly discuss his feelings.

  They finished their drinks in companionable silence, which Ivloch only broke to discuss various members' latest achievements. Camrin finally downed the dregs of the wine, aware, despite the lack of talk, he had been nursi
ng it for some time. He placed it on the table and moved to stand.

  Neither mentioned the Becca-sized hole in their hearts.

  “I should make my leave then. Get some rest before you leave. You’ll need it.”

  “We all will. Camrin? I know how you feel about the situation but take care of Mara.”

  “I took my vow as you said. You know what the vow means. I’ll do my best to keep your seat warm.”

  “Not too warm. Never too warm.” Ivloch chuckled.

  “There’s really going to be a war isn’t there? We won’t all make it.”

  “No, but hopefully we’ll make a difference.”

  Camrin still couldn’t sleep when he climbed back into his tent.

  Fifty-Three - Katanya

  The soldier had her pinned against the wall before she could react.

  She was sure that she could fight him and this spoilt prince off, even without using her power, but she knew she wouldn’t get out of the palace alive.

  Surrendering was her best chance, it just wasn't a particularly good one.

  She would probably die before she could tell Ivloch anything she’d heard; before any of them knew how bad things were here. Maybe she would die like Becca. Becca would have hated that.

  She didn’t struggle as the soldier and his piercing eyes turned her around and threw her back against the wall. It was cold and rough against the thin, horrible cotton of her servant’s robe.

  The Prince moved before her, gazing down at her with his intense dark eyes. He looked her up and down, a slight curve to his lips.

  “Now what have we here?” He looked down the corridor, checking that nobody else could see them. “Take her into my chambers.”

  The man behind her yanked her into the room she had been spying on.

  It was even more lavish than she had thought. Tapestries dominated every wall, all except one, which was entirely full of towering bookcases. A black carpet that looked softer than any material she had ever seen covered the floor, thick flamboyant rugs scattered across it. There were two other doors excluding the one she had come in; she quickly guessed they would lead to a bedroom and a washroom.