The Twelve Kingdoms

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “I sent you a missive with my report.”

  “Tell me again,” he said, tone deceptively soft as he paced around the room.

  “We spent months following the rumors, looking for the other route into Annfwn.” It hadn’t been an easy task, combing the pubs and chatting up shepherds, ferreting out anyone who’d heard the old stories of pathways over the mountains into paradise—without directly inquiring. “I kept a list of the roads and paths we followed, some no better than deer trails. None led us anywhere but deeper into the Wild Lands.”

  “Did you reach the sea?”

  “No.” I’d tried, hadn’t I? I’d tried everything I could think of to bring him the answer he wanted, not letting myself contemplate the eventual impact on Andi, should I succeed.

  “Then you did not go far enough.”

  We had gone far enough, and found ourselves circling back on our own tails. More Tala magic. When we’d stood at Odfell’s Pass and Andi gave her demonstration, though I had seen that the land beyond the barrier bloomed with summer, my Hawks later told me that they had seen only snow, that she and the Tala had disappeared from sight on the other side. Perhaps she hid the barrier from me also now, reflecting us away as if from a mirror. I’d tried to explain this to Uorsin once before, but he’d flown into such a rage that I knew better than to say it again. I’d hoped he’d calm over the ensuing months.

  Instead he’d only gotten worse. Danu give me strength to know what to do.

  “We did not go far enough,” I agreed, aching with the failure of that, too.

  “And then your sister sent for you and you threw all else aside to go to her.”

  How to tread this path? “I knew you placed a high value on securing her child, should it be born a boy. I sought to serve you in that, Father.”

  The sound of the flagon hitting the wall clanged like a broken bell against my nerves.

  “But. You. Failed.” The King bit down on each word. Each as bad as the physical blow.

  “Yes, my King.” I thought a tear escaped me, but it was blood, I realized, leaking from my forehead where the Heir’s Circlet had cut in. I put up a hand to wipe it away.

  “Give me that.”

  Pulling off the circlet, with a sense of the inevitability, I placed the thin gold band in his palm and for a long and dreadful moment faced him, forcing myself to hold steady.

  “Allow me to correct my error, my King. I’ll go and find them, bring them here. Or die trying.”

  “You shall not wiggle free so easily, escaping the consequences of thwarting me as your mother did. You need not retrieve my grandson, because Amelia will bring him here—if she truly lives and your tale is true. She, at least, dotes on her old father and will want to see me happy. You denied me one heir. I won’t stand by and let you do it again.”

  His words hung between us, the scorching accusation that I deprived him of the happiness he sought. He left it open, waiting for me to offer what I knew he most wanted.

  I couldn’t. I never would again.

  “You will remain inside these walls. See that your behavior is beyond reproach. Formal court in the morning.”

  6

  I took the shortcut back to my rooms, the night-blooming flowers filling the air with sweet scent, as if Ordnung had not become my prison. At least the corridors were empty, with none to witness my humiliation. In my rooms, I removed the thrice-damned rubies and put them carefully away. The gown took some doing, but I struggled out of it. Further proof that Lady Mailloux made a terrible lady’s maid, as she should have waited up for me.

  Thank Danu she hadn’t.

  Her absence gave me time to clean the blood from my face and gown, though the deep color barely showed it. Something to remember.

  Knowing I’d never sleep, I changed into a set of soft leathers and strapped on my sword. The familiar weight grounded me, settled some of the roiling energy that came of being stymied at every turn. Funny that I’d never felt truly trapped until this moment. All along I’d thought the sense of being surrounded would ease off, that we’d ride out soon. Now I needed to move, to burn off this near-desperate urge to escape. I headed for the courtyard off the arcade. No one would go that way and I could work off some of this emotion until I felt centered enough to form a plan.

  Danu’s priestesses kept few temples, and those were mainly on the mountain peaks. Unlike Glorianna—or Moranu, I supposed, though I didn’t know—Danu had few prescribed prayers or rituals. The sword forms and her other martial exercises were the core of her teachings. Work the body to temper the spirit. With Glorianna, a worshiper could mouth the words and be smiled upon. Danu required sweat and blood.

  Though my body protested, I started the Midnight form. My knees groaned from riding since before dawn, the earlier workout, and then sitting through the banquet. If I exhausted myself enough, I might be able to stop thinking, perhaps even sleep a few hours.

  Defend, parry, attack, retreat, regroup.

  The situation with my father was a battle like any other. I had defended myself, parried his attack, and retreated. I simply needed to regroup. He’d been angry about the jewels—understandable—off-balance with worry over Amelia, and more than a little drunk. I should have realized he’d see my wearing of Salena’s jewels as aligning myself with her, which had come to mean with Andi, Rayfe, and the Tala also. The last year had tried us all. Uorsin had poured his life into creating and preserving the peace of the Twelve Kingdoms. Of course he could allow no threat to it.

  If he believed I’d done as he thought, then I’d deserved his censure.

  I needed only prove myself.

  I couldn’t let myself dwell on the more sinister implications, that my father’s behavior had gone from angry and erratic to something I hesitated to put words to. What would become of the Twelve Kingdoms if the High King was . . . No, I wouldn’t think of it. Taking the circlet might not mean I was no longer heir. He hadn’t stripped me of it publicly. And surely he’d only meant for me to stay close to Ordnung for the moment, not forever. Tomorrow would be better. We’d both be calmer, clear of thought, and we’d discuss. Even when he’d been most unhappy with me, we’d always managed to meet mind to mind, for the good of the Twelve. We’d do so again.

  Danu make it so.

  My blade whistled through the Whirlwind into Heron Strikes, and my back grabbed hard. I swallowed the cry of pain easily enough but had to pause, half hunched over like an old granny, catching my breath and waiting for the thrice-damned muscles to let go.

  “Here, now.” That baritone rumbled, and a warm hand settled on the small of my back.

  I started to spin and turn, hissing at the spike of agonized resistance. “Danu take it!”

  “You’ll get nowhere forcing it.” The merc captain said. “Hold still a moment.”

  He worked a series of knuckles into a spot lower down on my hips.

  “That’s not where it hurts.”

  “Hush. I’m helping you.”

  “I didn’t ask for help.”

  He chuckled, warm and low. “Believe me, Your Highness, I’m fully aware of that. However, you need my help, lest you add yourself to the statues that decorate this courtyard.”

  I didn’t reply to that. The spasm would have let go eventually. They always did. But whatever magic he did with his hands—pressing into places that felt bruised and somehow extracting the soreness as he withdrew—worked far faster. If he declined to take advantage of my momentary injury and instead elected to put me back in fighting form, so be it. And, oh, Danu, the release from that spasm felt sweeter than a summer’s day.

  Straightening, I moved tentatively, rather astounded that my body responded so easily. I turned to face the Dasnarian, using the movement to step outside of weapon’s reach. He noted that, of course, eyes glinting colorlessly in the moonlight.

  “Better?”

  I nodded. “Yes. My gratitude. What technique is that?”

  “We call it lifdrengrr, giving health to the warrior.
Excellent tools for quickly returning a comrade back into the fight.”

  Rolling my shoulders, I agreed. Only a few twinges. I could work through those.

  “It is not, however, a long-term fix. You should have your healers tend to you.”

  “I’m fine. And why are you here? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  “You have no business asking me anything. This is a private courtyard. You may have the run of the castle, but not the family wing.” I pretended to test my sword arm, which gained me another half step of distance. Danu, the man had a long reach on him. “Are you a spy, Captain?”

  “I didn’t get all of it.”

  “What?”

  “Your back. There’s a catch between your shoulder blades still. I can see it when you move.”

  “It wouldn’t stop me from taking you down. Why are you here?”

  “As much as I’d love to spar with you, Your Highness, I’d prefer to test myself against you when you’re fully recovered. Let me get that catch.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, willing it to be true, though the ache he’d spotted sent tendrils of ominous pain up my neck and down my spine. My back sometimes bothered me after long training sessions, but it had gotten worse in the last year. I hated to think it might be age. “I’m going to ask a third time, and if you don’t have a satisfying answer, I’m signaling the guards. Why are you here?”

  “If I give you an honest answer, will you let me adjust your spine?”

  “Why are you so determined on that?”

  “Maybe I just want to put my hands on you again, Princess Ursula.”

  “I’m not certain what game you’re playing with me, Captain, but if you mean to be flirtatious, I can warn you right now that your efforts would be wasted on me.”

  “I followed you.”

  So he was indeed a spy. I should be congratulating myself for seeing through him, instead of having to ignore the stain of disappointment. “For what gain?”

  Shrugging those big shoulders, he tucked his thumbs in his sword belt. “I had concerns about your meeting with High King Uorsin. So I waited until you went to your chambers. Before I knew it, you’d emerged again and come here.”

  “And you stayed to watch.”

  His teeth flashed white in the glow of the moon. “Yes.”

  “To gain what?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve implied I’m motivated entirely by gain.”

  “You’re a mercenary. And from a race of slavers.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Do you deny the truth of it?”

  He didn’t respond to that immediately. “I answered your question honestly. Time to pay the price.”

  My body sang to alert when he started toward me, and in a flash I’d pressed the tip of my blade to the hollow of his throat. “Perhaps it is you who will pay the price.”

  “You are blazingly fast,” he said in an admiring tone. He seemed entirely unperturbed. Hadn’t even twitched a hand toward the hilt of his own sword. “Even with a stove-up spine, you’re faster than any fighter I’ve seen.”

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t slit your throat this moment.”

  “To begin, the contract with the High King expressly forbids my execution, even at the hands of a disgruntled member of the ruling family—we’ve learned lessons there. Plus, I’ve given you no real cause and your honor won’t let you slay me in cold blood. Besides which, by paying the price I meant that you’ll let me fix your back.”

  “You’re obsessed with this notion.”

  “I tend toward single-mindedness. The trait has generally been an asset. Rarely has anyone wanted to kill me for it.” He returned my gaze calmly, eyes clear as the moonlight glinting off the blade at his throat.

  What in Danu was I doing?

  I lowered the tip of the blade, keeping my guard up in case he used that reach to lunge for me. “My apologies. I have been . . . on edge.”

  “Understandable, given what transpired today. Will you sheathe your blade, Your Highness? This fix requires your hands free.”

  If the cramp that had ascended to burn between my shoulder blades hadn’t been growing worse, I would have refused. I slid the blade home in her sheath, noting that he relaxed fractionally. Not so calm as he’d like me to believe, then. Made him more human.

  “Fold your arms over your chest, palms on the opposite shoulders. Yes, like that.” He moved behind me and I turned, tracking his movement. “Your Highness,” he sighed, impatience tingeing the tone. “I have to be behind you. Trust me. I’m not going to harm the Heir to the High Throne in the heart of Ordnung.”

  Maybe not the heir. Not anymore. The grief and failure of it rode between my shoulder blades, a physical pain that threatened to override all else. But I would not be the one to give voice to it until Uorsin did. No one would notice if I didn’t wear the circlet, since I rarely had. Still, I’d keep up a strong front with the mercenary. “If only because your contract forbids it.”

  “Which it does. We are here as allies, not enemies. You have your version of honor. I have mine.”

  I would have snorted at that, but he wrapped those bearlike arms around me and I tensed to break the hold.

  “Relax, Ursula.” His deep voice rumbled through me. “I’m helping you.” He crossed his arms over mine, locking one hand around his other wrist and pulling me back against his broad chest. Easily twice as wide as mine. And strong as an ox. If we ever fought in truth, I’d have to avoid being caught in any grip such as this or I’d never wrestle free.

  “Drop your head back on my shoulder.” His soft laugh against my back reminded me of far-off thunder. “Which means to relax. Surely you know how.”

  Annoyed with him, I rocked my head on my neck, cracking the bones there, then dropped my head onto his shoulder. Moranu’s moon sailed silver overhead.

  “Breathe deep. In and out.” His dark voice soothed something in me, and leaning against the unshakably strong pillar of his body, I was able to exhale some of the fear and worry.

  With a snap of his shoulders, he lifted me off my feet, my spine releasing with an audible pop and a sharp “Ah!” from me. The shock rattled my brain, making my head swim a moment, and though he’d set me on my feet again, he held me until I steadied.

  “Wow,” I said on a long breath.

  “Did that get it?”

  “Yes.” I started to move away, but his arms tightened.

  “Because I can do it again, if not. As often as you like.” He spoke the words quietly into my ear, his breath feathering warm across my cheek, clearly intending the double entendre. Something buried deep in me warmed to it.

  I twisted one hand up in a knife palm, breaking the hold and stepping free, pleased with how smoothly it went. Mostly because I surprised him. I doubted I could pull that off if he’d really locked down his superior upper-arm strength. He turned the surprise around by snaking a hand around my elbow, keeping me from clearing him entirely.

  “Not so fast. I—” He broke off, narrowing his eyes and tugging me closer. “You’re hurt.”

  “No.” Thrice-damn it. I’d forgotten to ice the forming bruise, hadn’t expected anyone to see me. I pulled back, but his grip held this time. “I accidentally hit myself with the sword hilt in practice just now. It’s nothing.”

  His pale eyes glittered. “I bet you haven’t hit yourself with your own sword since you were ten years old.”

  Eight, actually. “Let me go, Captain.”

  He did. “I was right to be concerned, I see. The High King struck you in his anger.”

  I hated, hated, hated, that he’d glimpsed that. That I’d forgotten the evidence would be visible. “You have no need to give a thought to me. Or to what transpires between me and the High King. You were hired to do a job. Presumably that contract of yours, the one you rely on to inform your honor and ethics, details exactly what is your concern. I suggest you stick to that.”

 
“I’m surprised you defend him.”

  I had no choice. My sacred duty to defend the High Throne and the man who embodied it. “You dance perilously close to treason, Dasnarian. I’m sure your contract precludes that.”

  “You seem uncommonly interested in the Vervaldr contract, Your Highness. Perhaps you should review it yourself.” Though his deep voice remained mild, irritation spiked in it. Good to know he could be unbalanced.

  “Already on my agenda for tomorrow.”

  “No doubt.”

  We stood there, squared off, like opponents before a bout. He didn’t move to leave and I was unwilling to break first. The moment spun out, and by the glimmer of amusement crossing his face, I knew he’d keep me there all night, out of sheer stubbornness.

  “Good night, Captain.”

  He swept me a bow, a grim smile cracking the façade. “Sleep well, Your Highness.”

  I left without bothering to tell him I never did.

  7

  After staring at the fire for hours, drinking the wine that never did make me sleepy, I finally napped fitfully in my old armchair. Thoughts fragmented into dreams, jumbling themselves together, so that when I woke to the sunrise call from Glorianna’s Temple, it took me a bit to sort out what had been real and what had not.

  The encounter with the Dasnarian captain seemed like a surreal memory. I’d have put that down to a dream except I didn’t think even Moranu would send such a bizarre story and my back felt amazingly better. Looser than in weeks.

  “You do sleep with your sword,” Dafne commented and handed me a mug of hot tea.

  Keeping my face turned away from her—though I’d detoured to the deep cellars and grabbed some ice before turning in—I gulped the tea, hoping the burn would clear my head. I hadn’t taken off my sword or the practice leathers when I’d collapsed in the chair a few hours ago, waiting for the wine to take effect.

  “You don’t need to wait on me. I’m used to doing for myself.” I sounded grumpy, but better that than . . . what? However I’d been that made the mercenary think he should be concerned.