by K T Munson
Chapter 56
Queen Sani Siria
The Commander was not very good at hiding his disdain. Sani Siria had learned to read men early on, and nothing she saw, in her new partner, made her happy. The man was a narcissist, cruel, and single minded. He regarded women as secondary to men and treated slaves even worse. Only his soldiers were treated well.
She had not wanted to stay in the ruins of Ostapor but she did not trust him to keep his end of the bargain—even if he needed her and her ability to trade with the south and Tiam. She sat in her home, one that had once belonged to one of the richest Masters in town. She was in the garden with her two little maids reading her mail and giving her the important ones.
Hadrian had been causing problems in the south. The man had overthrown Roanoak and proclaimed himself king, somewhat impressive to Sani Siria, furthermore he was able to convince Vargos to surrender. The new King of Vargos even recognized him as the rightful ruler. She had to admit, Hadrian knew how to cause a riot. When the news reached them, The Commander had thrown a table.
She picked up a letter from The Commander and read through it. Her servants painted the nails on her right hand. They had developed a way to make paint harden on the nails and last a few days. It wasn’t made from traditional items; things like beeswax, egg whites, and some other items; she couldn’t remember.
Bane, she reminded herself, wanted to march south to overtake Hadrian and stop his embargo. She opened another letter that had arrived early in the morning. Her eyebrows rose when she saw it was from Hadrian. She was not surprised he wanted a similar outcome. That instead of Eswan going south; he intended to come north but wanted her assistance.
Sani Siria set the letter on her lap, as the servant finished her fingers and let them rest on a pillow. She held up the other hand and let the girl get to work. She looked at the young girl, not yet thirteen. She was very young and Sani Siria had recently brought her into her service.
She wondered if she had not met that king all those years ago if she would have been this girl. Many did not know where she had come from. Sani Siria had been the name born to a butcher girl who lived on the lower end of the city. She had not been a great courtier or a woman of wealth. She had been a dirty child, with a beautiful face.
By the time she was sixteen Sani Siria had started to notice that she was prettier than most girls. More importantly, she would be able to use it to become better than her birth. She wanted to find a rich man to care for her and secure a good station. She was clever and she knew it was possible.
She had taken a dress that was a previous year’s rejection and altered it. She went to the fashion ball held every year and showed them what she was. Sani Siria had wanted a rich man and she had found herself a king. It had not taken long for the king to find out who she really was. Yet, he had said she had a fire in her eyes and a yearning for something better.
He had been right. The people had been calling for a queen to rule their Queendom and he had given them her. Her husband had not lived long and she had made him as happy as she could, in the time they were married. He had given her everything she had ever wanted, raised her only brother up to his council and made her queen.
She glanced down at the letter and realized she was in a very narrow space. Decisions such as these rarely came and when they did they had the potential to change everything. She had never met this Hadrian, but she doubted he could be any worse than, The Commander. She also knew there would never be anyone to come as close to overthrowing Eswan, in her lifetime.
Sylon and Lorian would have to join forces with Hadrian in order to even hope to win. Even, then, she doubted it was possible. She actually would prefer to rid the world of The Commander, but she did not want to lose everything in the process. Either way it was a gamble.
Sani Siria looked at her nails, painted blood red, and wondered what to do. Perhaps the best action was no action. She would instead wait to see which side intended to make a move, first. Then, when she believed one side had the upper hand she would join them claiming she was always on their side and that it had taken some time to gather an army. The Commander would put it on the ignorance of a woman and Hadrian would never know she had waited. It was positively brilliant.
Chapter 57
Hadrian
Hadrian paced while he waited for the crowd to gather. His escaped slaves were being harassed at the harbor and The Commander had sent another box. Hadrian had sworn to himself that this would not stand.
Worse, the city was in open revolt against him. They were calling for their true leader; the People’s Princess, made queen. All of Roanoak wanted him dead for the part he played in marring the city and killing its royal family. Even though he explained he was born a Rohan, they still called him a usurper and cursed him.
Regardless of what they thought, and whether Sylon or Lorian joined him, he had to leave his home once more. Vargos was sending men as requested and he intended to leave a small group to hold the city. Without proof of Ashira still being alive, and all the royal family dead, there was only one person who could contest the throne and she was an old woman.
His sister had been one of the first people he had sent to be escorted to him after he had been made king. Padma would be arriving today, she had first refused to come and they all but had to drag her from her summer home not far from the Dunes. He had called her there to see his speech and to keep her under lock and key.
They were calling him a false king and they would take anyone besides him. He didn’t want them to get the idea into their head that Padma was an option. Old man Kal finally appeared from the balcony and nodded.
“They are ready,” he said and Hadrian walked out onto the balcony with flourish.
Guards had rounded many of his new subjects up and they were waiting for him to give his speech. Hadrian looked down at them and resented them. They had a perfectly good king before them but they wanted something else. He should have been theirs and now that he was their king, they didn’t want him.
“Good people of Roanoak,” he began calling down to them. “The world is not as fortunate as this great city, to be one of learning and freedom. To the north there are our brothers in bondage, dying, while seeking freedom. I am going to march north and personally see that they are free from the tyrannical reign of The Commander.”
There were whispers in the crowd and Hadrian could see their concern on their faces. Some were outraged and called him a fool that would bring destruction onto Roanoak. Others asked if he hadn’t already done enough. He ignored them all and knew this was his destiny.
“I have begun to search for the People’s Princess to bring her back here,” he said and that caused more commotion, “As your King I will return once this matter is settled.”
He turned and returned into the safety of the Rainbow Palace. Outside, the crowd became inconsolable and their voices rose together in one great roar. He knew it was not from the passion to end slavery but for Ashira, the People’s Princess.
Padma was waiting for him. Her face set as she asked coldly, “You sent for me?”
“You have been refusing to see me before now,” Hadrian said and came over to kiss her on the cheek.
She turned her head away violently and glared at him, “Why would I want to see you?”
“I am your brother,” Hadrian replied.
“Hadric died the moment he betrayed us,” Padma responded formally.
“I was banished, Padma,” Hadrian reminded her. “All of you abandoned me.”
“Your punishment was not too harsh,” Padma informed him, “It was Rodrick that begged father to have you exiled. I wish father would have ignored him and had you killed.”
Hadrian slapped her; the back of his hand collided with her cheek before he knew what he was doing. She was an older woman, plump and somehow still pretty. She fell to ground and he heard her hands slap against the stone floor. He immediately regretted his action and went to help her up.
She looked u
p at him accusingly and spat, “Keep your hands off of me.”
The guard helped her to her feet as Hadrian watched, shame and guilt turning to anger. She held a hand to her cheek as she stood there seething. Her blue-green eyes matched his, without flinching. She was favoring her left side but Hadrian ignored it.
“When I return you will want to readjust your attitude,” Hadrian informed her. “When I bring Ashira back here, I may let you see her.”
Padma was surprised as she asked, “She is alive?”
“Very much,” Hadrian lied, “and my people are bringing her back here from Tiam.”
She cast her eyes down a second before saying carefully, “I understand, my King.”
“As you should,” he said as he walked by her, before leaving to fulfill his destiny.
Chapter 58
Otto Deckard
Deckard turned the crank until it reached the final notch. He loaded the metal arrow into the shaft. It was black and long and carefully crafted. Three more lay on the grass next to his feet.
“Clear?” Deckard called.
“Clear.” Marisol and Evanora called behind them.
He pulled the lever; the crank unwound, and the arrow shot forth. It lodged itself into the tree that Deckard had been aiming at. Wood splintered and scattered around the entry point. Evanora bolted past him to inspect the damage.
“It went clean through!” She called back excitedly.
He had never created a weapon before and was a little unnerved at how easy it had been. Evanora tried to free it but the arrow was thoroughly stuck. She yanked it back and forth until finally she had worked it enough, for it to come free.
She hurried it back to him, her legs just barely seen under the cheap dress. Even though they had none of the luxuries of home, somehow she was happy. He stared at the weapon he had created before walking back into the house. He returned with a few logs put them in the fire pit they sometimes sat around to watch the night sky.
“What are you doing?” Evanora asked dropping the arrow along with the others.
“I am burning it,” Deckard said and strode back over as Evanora gapped at him.
“Why?” She finally asked, but she came to help him move it across the ground.
“The world is not ready for this,” Deckard explained, “and I am an inventor, not a weaponsmith.”
“But you have been working so hard!” Evanora countered, as Deckard threw dead grass and moss under the logs.
“I am sorry,” he said looking at her mournfully and he lit the fire. “I have made one mistake after another and it has hurt you.”
“Father, please don’t say that,” Evanora countered as Deckard sat down on the bench to watch the fire.
“It’s true,” Deckard said as she shook her head, “I have kept so much from you.”
Evanora sat down on the edge of the wooden bench and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Your mother,” Deckard said and saw her eyes widen. “She is your mother and everything I have told you is true but I am not your father.”
“I thought as much,” Evanora revealed.
Deckard took her hands. “You knew? How did you know?” he asked softly.
“In one of my classes we discussed the traits you inherent from your mother and your father,” Evanora explained. “I went home and looked for similar traits I should have gotten from you. I found almost none. That and you are too principled to be with a woman you are not married to. I guessed you had taken me in.”
“How long?” Deckard asked completely flabbergasted.
“Two years.” Evanora said with a smile, “and I have loved you more ever since.”
“You are my daughter,” Deckard said. “I may not have fathered you, but you are mine.”
“I know,” Evanora said as Deckard kissed her forehead and held her against his chest.
Deckard let go a heavy sigh before he let her up. “I have kept many things from you about your mother. Mostly the bad, but some of the good. Would you like to know?”
Evanora turned her face to the fire as the flames licked up the side of the weapon. She watched them for a moment, her face unflinching. After a few hesitant seconds she turned to him. He did not blame her for her hesitation, and he half hoped she would say no.
“Did you love her?” Evanora finally asked.
“I loved your mother,” Deckard confirmed, “but I didn’t have the courage to tell her until it was too late.”
“Will you tell me what happened to her?” She whispered.
“She killed herself,” Deckard told her and watched her face turn to horror, “Walked into The Knife not long after you were born.”
“Why?” Evanora said as tears welled in her eyes.
Deckard felt like crying himself, he had never wanted her to know the truth or see that expression on her face, “It was because of what happened to her.”
Evanora exhaled a shaky breath before saying firmly, “Tell me what happened.”
Deckard gripped her hand and he told her. He told her everything as his invention burned. The world was suddenly a new place for Otto Deckard.
Chapter 59
Lancel Storm
Lancel ate the strange soup with the even stranger oblong spoon. It was made of some strange glass and decorated with blue shapes. His eyes kept straying to Ashira who sat next to Eliron on his left. She seemed to be glowing, despite what had happened.
Eliron’s arm was on the table and Ashira’s fingers were resting on his wrist. While he kept stealing glances at Ashira, she kept peeking at Eliron. His king was in perfect health and had clearly professed himself in love with Ashira. Yet he wasn’t sure if she had done the same.
Cain set down his spoon and proclaimed, “We need to go back.”
Silence descended around the table as Ashira’s face fell. She was treating this place like her own personal sanctuary from reality. It was clear at times that she was grieving for her family, but the world beyond these walls was terrifying. Lancel admitted even he was not excited about the uncertainty, but they could not hide forever.
Ashira inhaled a shaky breath as she set down her spoon. “I agree,” Eliron said.
“Ashira?” Cain asked softly and all eyes turned on her.
Eliron turned over his hand and took Ashira’s fingers in them as he reassured her, “You won’t be alone.”
Ashira’s eyes went from Eliron’s face to her brother’s, before focusing on Lancel. He had expected fear and grief, but that was overshadowed by her anger. Her fingers tightened around Eliron’s fingers as she looked at Lancel. He felt almost uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze.
“We should go back,” Lancel told her, agreeing with everyone else.
Ashira nodded her head as she let out a sigh and finally said, “It will not be easy.”
“Hadrian may hold the city and my cousin in Vargos, but both will not stand for this easy surrender Lancel informed me of,” Eliron said. “We will reclaim my kingdom.”
Leader Qye entered the room, interrupting their discussion. He wore a simple orange robe today, with a matching sash round the middle. Lancel was always a little unnerved by his presence, but ignored the urge to avoid him.
“The slave freer is moving a massive army along The Knife,” Leader Qye informed them. “There are men to guide you to Tiam.”
Eliron immediately stood and so did Cain. Lancel was a little slower to stand than the two men because Ashira did not move. Qye turned to show them the way as Eliron and Cain fell into conversation behind him. Ashira stood a moment later and came around the table. When Lancel saw her stand he turned and followed the rest of them out.
Eliron and Cain were discussing who should ride hard and look at the city. They would need to split into pairs, one to see that the city was safe and a second group to arrive after. Eliron and Cain agreed that Ashira should be in the second group. Lancel saw she was walking in a daze.
Leader Qye interrupted them. “We will be able to penetrate the city
through a poorly known way.”
“That is good,” Eliron said with a smile. “I was not looking forward to trying to go through the main gate.”
“Perhaps it would be best if Lancel stayed with Ashira,” Cain suggested.
Lancel suddenly felt panicked as he said, “I will not allow my king to go to the city while I remain behind. Eliron, you should stay with her.”
Eliron gave him a sideways glance but agreed, “That would make sense.”
“The last time I traveled with you I ended up unconscious in a locked room,” Cain reminded Lancel.
“And was that really so bad?” Lancel asked with a little smile.
As they rounded a corner Ashira’s hand caught the back of his shirt. Lancel paused in surprise and focused on her. She glanced up at him with an almost bland expression.
“If you find Hadrian in Tiam,” Ashira spoke softly but there was raw hatred in her voice. “Kill him.”
Lancel swallowed, from the expression in her eye, he remembered he had borne the same look once. Her blue green eyes did little to hide her disdain. He turned around slowly so that she would let him go. He took her hand as it dropped, which surprised her.
“Killing Hadrian won’t bring your family back,” Lancel said carefully, “And he claims to be of Rohan descent. Would you have me kill your uncle?”
“I would have you make him suffer,” Ashira said pulling her hand free. “My brother would give him a clean death. I want him to die slowly.”
Grief changed people, it made them do and say crazy things. Lancel could remember drowning himself in wine so that he might sleep. He had wanted to forget her, so that his pain of losing her would be less. His heart broke for her and now he wanted to comfort the woman whom he had found himself very much in love with. Ashira moved around him and Lancel stared after her, shocked.
Leader Qye had been standing at the corner watching them. His gaze never left Lancel’s face and they met each other’s gaze. Ashira darted around Qye before continuing down the hall.
