by Cayla Kluver
When the fifth day arrived, I awoke before dawn in order to see off London and the thirty soldiers who were to accompany him on their mission. Destari would be attending the meeting as well; as the only soldier of rank other than London, it would be his task to assess how great and immediate a threat the Cokyrians posed to Hytanica while London delivered the King’s message.
In Destari’s absence, Tadark had been reassigned as my bodyguard. I had not spoken to the small-statured, baby-faced guard since he had betrayed me to Cannan by confessing the nature of my visits with Narian. He was, therefore, initially on edge around me, but I paid no heed, as I had far more pressing concerns. It did not take him long to conclude all was forgotten, if not forgiven, and he soon resumed his annoying habits.
With Tadark aggravatingly close to me, I came down the Grand Staircase and went into the Central Courtyard, where London, Destari, Cannan and my father stood by the gates at the far end. Destari was in uniform, as was expected of anyone who acted as a representative of Hytanica, but London, ever the rebel, still wore his leather jerkin and weathered boots. On the other side of the open gates, the troops, in full uniform with plates of armor protecting their chests and backs, waited on horseback for the two Elite Guards to join them.
As I approached, with Tadark just a few feet behind, the chilly morning air felt harsh and unfriendly, and I shivered despite my heavy cloak. Though this was supposed to be a simple meeting, no one thought the Cokyrians would receive Hytanica’s message with grace. It was probable that fewer soldiers would return than were departing.
I stopped a few feet away from the men, knowing I would not be welcomed, at least by my father and Cannan, but wanting London and Destari to know that I wished them well. Although London had returned to duty within the palace, he had not yet come to see me, and I hoped things were resolved between us.
London glanced at me, then strode to my side before mounting his horse.
“You should not be here,” he said. “But then I’ve never known anyone who flouts as many rules as you do.”
“I believe that can be attributed to your influence,” I replied, relieved by his casual manner.
“We will return without injury,” he promised. “But if not, know that what happened between us is in the past, and that you never left my heart.”
I nodded, my eyes watery. He and Destari mounted their horses and rode out at the head of the troops. I watched until the somber aftermath became more frigid than the air, then sought the serenity of the chapel to say a prayer for the safety of our men before returning to my quarters to wait for news.
Time passed slowly, and with each moment, my sense of doom grew. Our troops would have reached the bridge by now. How many Cokyrians would they have encountered? Had the message been delivered? How had the enemy responded? And, the most terrible question of all, were my two most trusted guards alive?
As the day wore on, I would stand on my balcony to survey the city and what land I could see beyond its walls, checking for movement. It was not until the weak November sun had begun its plummet toward the horizon that I saw riders approaching in the distance. I stared intently, knowing that London and Destari would lead, then left my quarters to stumble to the Grand Staircase, for I had seen only one horse heading our men.
With a sick feeling in my stomach, I waited on the landing above the first floor. I heard footsteps from below and saw Cannan and my father emerge from the antechamber followed by several guards, obviously having been told that our men were returning.
I stayed put, knowing that my father would not approve of my presence when the Elite Guards entered to make their report. I swallowed several times to clear the lump from my throat, and for once Tadark had the courtesy to give me some space by standing against the wall behind me.
The paradoxical tranquillity was agonizing, and time slowed to a maddening crawl, although in fact it was only minutes before the doors were yanked open by the Palace Guards. As both London and Destari entered, taking rasping, exhausted breaths, I clutched the banister for support lest I collapse with relief.
London seemed to be unharmed, albeit sweat-drenched and grimy, but as I examined Destari, I saw that his left shirtsleeve was soaked crimson. The wound, however it had been inflicted, had been bleeding profusely for quite some time. I was sickened by the sight of the blood, but made no sound nor effort not to see.
“Report,” Cannan ordered.
“The Cokyrians were not pleased by what I had to say, though to their credit they were unsurprised,” London said wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They attacked us as we were leaving. My horse took an arrow in the neck, and when Destari came back for me, he took one in the shoulder.”
“The arrow grazed my arm,” Destari said, as worried eyes fell upon him. “It looks worse than it feels.”
“You should have it examined straightaway,” my father insisted, gesturing toward the wound, more upset by the sight than I. “You have been bleeding quite heavily—perhaps the wound needs to be sewn.”
“There are many who fared worse, Your Majesty. I am in need of no one’s care at this moment.”
“How many were injured?” Cannan probed, and I shrank from hearing the answer.
“Twenty-four soldiers returned with us,” said London, after glancing at Destari and deciding it was he who would deliver the bad tidings. He sounded strangely distant as he spoke. “Of those, nine were taken to the infirmary at the military base. The six who were left behind are, presumably, dead.”
I clenched my jaw so fiercely that my teeth began to ache. I wanted to weep as I thought of the families of the six slain soldiers and how they would soon learn that their husband, or their father, brother or son, was dead, killed during a simple and, based on the information that had been released, safe mission. Perhaps their wives were waiting dinner for them, not yet knowing that they lay lifeless on the shore of the river, stuck with Cokyrian arrows. I withheld my tears with difficulty as I pictured the dignified faces of the Cokyrians who had been inside the kingdom I called home less than a week ago, and saw not the regal figures I had judged them to be, but merciless killers.
“Does the enemy have sufficient numbers to pose an immediate threat?” Cannan was asking as I recovered from my shock.
“No, sir, not a threat against the city,” Destari answered. “Nor did they pursue us. They also suffered injuries and, perhaps, casualties.”
“Go to the infirmary and see who lives, and Destari, have your wound treated,” Cannan instructed, sounding drained as he experienced afresh the pain of war that had been absent for sixteen years. “I will send troops out to collect the bodies and to reinforce our protection of the bridge.”
London and Destari gave curt nods and the small group dispersed, the two guards exiting through the main doors, Cannan and my father heading in the direction of the captain’s office.
In the aftermath of the debacle at the bridge, Cannan increased the number of soldiers who patrolled Hytanica’s borders by day and by night, and sent scouts into the Niñeyre Mountains to monitor the activities of the Cokyrians. Although our enemy had departed, no one expected this state of affairs to last, and our kingdom was on high alert for any sign of their return. But there were no incidents. Destari, who returned to his assignment as my bodyguard less than a week after he had been injured, said it was reminiscent of the end of the war, when the Cokyrians had abandoned their attack and vacated their encampments to remain unseen for sixteen years.
As the days plodded on, the city was restive. A sensation of doom hung over it, yet each new day brought another reprieve. It was when we entered the month of December, with the passage of just over two weeks since the meeting at the bridge, that the atmosphere in the city and at the palace became noticeably less strained. The Christmas season was approaching, and in spite of the unsettled state of affairs with Cokyri, spirits were rising. Though Cannan had not reduced the number of troops on patrol, the Hytanican people began to believe that the Cokyrians
did not intend to strike, and many thought it inconceivable that they would start a war over one boy.
During this stressful but uneventful time, I saw little of Narian, though he continued to reside in our guest wing, and I had not yet spoken with him. I could only assume that Cannan had forbidden him access to certain parts of the palace, probably harboring some concern about Narian’s relationship to the High Priestess. I did see more of London, however, as he was often with Destari, and I began to feel as though I once again had two bodyguards. I was not surprised, therefore, when I left my quarters late one afternoon to visit the library and found both men outside my parlor door.
I made my way through the corridors, trailed by both guards, who were speaking to each other in hushed tones, but I was too happy to have London back to be irked by their manner, whether it was conscious on their part or not. Though it was not yet time for dinner, all the lanterns in the corridors had been lit, as the daylight hours had diminished now that winter was upon us. Despite the fact that fires smoldered in most of the fireplaces within the palace, the interior temperature was dropping, and I tugged a shawl more closely about my shoulders to ward off the chill.
As we entered the library, my eyes fell on Narian, who was seated in one of the armchairs by the hearth, immersed in a book, light from the flames casting flickering shadows upon his face and adding a touch of red to his blond hair. He raised his head and came to his feet, looking almost hopeful, but his guarded façade emerged as he realized Destari and London were with me.
“Princess Alera,” he said, giving me a courteous nod.
Now that I had seen him free of his calculated aloofness on several occasions, I hated it when he employed the guise. Nevertheless, I understood the need to observe formalities whenever anyone else (especially the two guards with whom we were currently keeping company) was at hand.
“Good evening, Lord Narian,” I said, so conscious of the need to act naturally that every word and movement felt awkward. “Does living in the palace agree with you?”
“I am well accommodated, though I feel a bit constrained.”
Confused as to the constraints to which he alluded, I asked, “Do you miss your family?”
“No, I have not seen my family since before the tournament. I miss being outdoors. I miss the activity.”
An idea came to me, something that might give me a chance to spend some less supervised time with him.
“Perhaps, then, you would like to help us prepare the palace for Christmas. We will be hanging holly, mistletoe and ivy throughout the palace, and on the exterior—”
“I don’t think that’s the sort of activity he is missing, Alera,” London interjected, leaning against the wall to the left of the window near the book-filled aisles. “I’m sure he’ll tell you if you ask him—he’s used to daily training and drill. You can lose your edge if you go too long without training.”
Narian stared coolly at London, though a small crease in his brow had appeared. I closed my eyes, hoping London had finished. Of course, he had not.
“I could continue your training,” he offered, though he watched Narian with predatory eyes. “After all, I am well acquainted with your instructor’s methods.”
I took a quick, involuntary breath. Destari, who had moved to the window seat, looked shocked as well, his dark eyebrows rising. Narian glanced at us, then returned his stare to London.
“Oh, well,” London said, pulling a book from a nearby shelf and rifling through its pages. “Just a thought.”
Though everyone in the room was gawking at him, London remained nonchalant and I marveled at his composure. Never before had he mentioned his ordeal in Cokyri, and now he had flippantly implied that he not only had met the Overlord, but knew a great deal about his methods and how Narian had been trained. I was the only one in whom Narian had confided; I alone knew for certain that the Overlord had been his teacher. I should have anticipated, given what London had said to me prior to the exhibition, that he would put the pieces together, but that he would be bold enough to tell Narian how much he had surmised was unexpected.
“So, about Christmas,” I said to Narian, my throat having gone so dry that my voice sounded hoarse. “Would you care to join us?”
Narian appeared not to have heard me. His eyes were fixed on London’s hands as they turned the pages of his book.
“That ring does not belong to you,” he declared.
London held up his right hand, palm turned in, displaying the wide silver band on his forefinger, which was overlaid with the intricate design of a never-ending chain. I stared at it, the only jewelry that he ever wore, and that he was never without.
“Oh, I think it does belong to me,” London disagreed, cocking an eyebrow in warning. “I more than paid for it sixteen years ago.”
A thunderous silence hung in the room as Narian and London stared distrustfully at each other. Finally, the younger man tore his gaze away, and I repeated my question, hoping to dispel the tension that saturated the air.
“If you want my assistance, then I will be happy to oblige,” Narian said.
Though his reply was sincere, I could not hold his attention. I had come to believe that nothing would ever penetrate Narian’s defenses, but I was wrong, for London had clearly rattled him.
“I need a gift for Ailith, then we will have purchased something for everyone,” Miranna said, stopping to peruse the jewelry displayed on the counter in one of the shops.
She and I were visiting the Market District in search of inexpensive yet meaningful Christmas gifts for our personal maids and servants. Every year, we went shopping together for this purpose, though it was seen as improper for us to buy gifts for our bodyguards, who were forced to tolerate us far more extensively than were our maids. While I knew London, Destari and Halias relished working as they did, I would have liked to have been permitted to show our appreciation by giving them something for Christmas.
Winter had now descended upon Hytanica. While it was rare for it to be cold enough in the river valley for the Recorah to freeze solid, the landscape was nonetheless drab and dismal. Especially in the month of January, skies were gray and cold rain would often fall. At higher elevations, the precipitation would descend as snow, capping the mountains to our north in white.
Miranna left the shop and, weaving her way through the people on the street, made her way to a store where dress fabrics were sold. I continued to scan the display before me, although in truth my attention was captivated by the daggers at the end of the counter rather than by the jewelry. Ever since my self-defense lessons with Narian, I had developed a keener awareness of the weaponry carried by Destari and the other guards who worked in the palace. I knew little about the daggers this shop was selling, or any other form of weaponry, except that simply taking note of them would be viewed as unladylike. I dragged my attention away from the knives and tried afresh to generate interest in the jewelry, vaguely cognizant of the opening and closing of the shop door.
As I passed my eyes over the merchandise, a strong arm took hold of me from behind, wrapping around my upper chest and pulling me against a well-muscled body. I clawed at the man’s forearm, desperate to free myself and frantic that Destari was not coming to my aid. My assailant released me with a chuckle, and I wheeled about to come face-to-face with Steldor.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, cheeks aflame, temper rising. “Do you always pounce upon unsuspecting women from behind?”
“Actually, I prefer to pounce from the front,” he said, dark eyes lazily scanning my figure. “Besides, I thought you were learning self-defense. It would seem you need a better teacher.”
I glared at him, both in response to his criticism of Narian and the fact that he somehow had learned of the activities in which I had engaged during my visits to Baron Koranis’s estate. I could only assume that Tadark had been overly talkative.
“My teacher is the best fighter in Hytanica,” I countered, hoping to strike a nerve.
Stel
dor smirked, enjoying my reaction as though he had intentionally baited me.
“You know your way with words, Princess, but just how proficient have you become with weapons?”
I stared speechlessly at him. Was he suggesting that he evaluate my skill and the effectiveness of Narian’s teaching? And to what end?
“That is not your concern,” I said, beginning to move away from him to find Miranna at the shop across the street.
“I don’t believe your father would view Narian as an appropriate teacher,” Steldor commented, following behind me. “Perhaps it would be enlightening to put the question before him.”
I turned back to him, distrustful of his motives. His smirk broadened as he recognized that he had gained the upper hand.
“If you wish to continue to learn self-defense,” he said, reaching out to finger a strand of my hair, “you’ll find that I am your only option.”
“Well, since you are the person against whom I most need to defend myself, I will decline your gracious offer,” I retorted. “If you’ll excuse me, I must finish my shopping before the day is out.”
I brushed past him to step out of the shop, but to my dismay, he followed right behind, my anger seeming to have encouraged him.
“As I am off duty, I shall accompany you,” he informed me, voice brimming with self-assurance and undisguised amusement.
“That won’t be necessary.” I glowered at him in an attempt to burn a hole through his irritatingly perfect features.
“Not necessary, indeed, but it will make for an interesting afternoon.”
Turning my back to him, I made my way through the crowd toward my sister, doing my best to ignore the one person I would rather have seen run over by a buggy than at my side. But he fell into step with me, bent on ruining the rest of my day. As he continued to hold a one-way conversation beside me, I wondered what he might do if he had any inkling of my thoughts: that were he, the great Lord Steldor, another man, I might have spent the afternoon smiling. Though he had a jealous nature, I doubted he had gone so far in his musings as to have considered that Narian posed a genuine threat to him.
