‘Bleak,’ Fiore said. ‘Bleak, remember me?’
She turned to him, the wildness in her eyes fading to recognition.
‘He …’ she panted, glaring at Swinton, ‘he would have let that creep have me.’ She turned to Fiore, looking up into his face.
‘No,’ Fiore said, ‘no, he wouldn’t have.’
Fiore held the girl by the wrists gently. She wasn’t pulling away, Swinton noticed. Fiore must have registered the silence around them, and dropped his hands.
‘You’re alright, Bleak,’ he said, and took a step back. He nodded to the young man, who looked on from the outskirts of the group, eyes narrowed.
Swinton didn’t say anything. He straightened himself and turned away. Clearly, his presence upset the girl. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t blame her.
‘You’re here to take us to the king?’ she asked Fiore.
‘They are,’ Henri said, stepping out into the clearing.
Swinton had to stop himself from turning around this time. He hated having his back to the warrior queen, knowing how dearly she’d love to stab a knife in it.
‘We’ll leave five days from now,’ she said.
This time, Swinton whirled around. ‘We can’t wait that long.’
Henri shrugged. ‘I told you it would be my way.’
Swinton felt his jaw clench. He hated this. Hated being challenged in front of his men. Or man – the number was irrelevant. He was the Commander of the King’s Guard, and the King’s Army. Valian or not, who was she to argue with him?
‘Those weren’t the conditions,’ he said.
‘Conditions weren’t stipulated, Commander.’
He paused. He hadn’t seen the summons. He’d fought the temptation to rip that seal open every day, and he’d stayed true to his vows. He hadn’t broken the royal seal. Though, perhaps a more sensible man would have.
‘Let me see it, then,’ he said, stretching out his hand.
‘Fine.’ She plucked it from the front of her leathers and tossed him the withered bit of parchment.
He caught it and took a few steps back, away from the centre of attention. He unfolded the soft paper and read. She was right. Nothing was, as she claimed, stipulated. All the parchment insisted was that the presence of Henrietta Valia and Bleaker Junior of Angove was required in Heathton. They were to arrive within a fortnight from receiving the summons. Swinton racked his brain for more detailed instructions from the king. But they didn’t come. The king had not provided him with further detail on how the two women were to be extracted from the forest. Was this a test? Would he be punished for some oversight later? He didn’t return to the group immediately. He stared at the parchment, willing the terms and conditions to make themselves known. They didn’t. He could decipher no hidden message or code, no matter how hard he stared at the inky page.
Slowly, he returned to Henri and extended the paper back out to the warrior queen.
‘Fine,’ he said.
Chapter 19
Everyone knew about her drinking. It was obvious, or at least it was obvious now that she wasn’t drinking. And Bleak had never wanted a drink more in her life. She stared at the back of Commander Swinton’s head of coal-coloured hair. He looked completely out of place here. His armour, his tense stance and the way he spoke to Henri, all of it put her and the kindred on edge. Athene looked ready to slice him in half. Bleak looked away and swallowed, finding her throat dry. Wine, she needed wine. She scanned the tabletops.
‘I had it taken away,’ Henri said from beside her, toying with the king’s summons between her long fingers.
‘What?’
‘The liquor. My kindred need all their wits about them with two King’s Guard in our keep.’ Without another word, Henri disappeared into the crowd of people. A lie. A lie of kindness, and Bleak didn’t know if she was angry or grateful.
A familiar head of caramel hair was changing pots of stew over the fire.
‘Lyse,’ Bleak called out, and the girl’s gaze snapped up to hers. Lyse gave her a broad smile, but continued to tend to her duties. Bleak faltered. Was she not allowed to speak to a groundling in the keep? Were there rules she didn’t know about? Before she could approach Lyse, the girl had disappeared. A hush fell over the merry crowd, and Bleak strained her neck to pinpoint the cause. Allehra. Allehra padded through the camp, barefoot and wearing a gown the colour of sparkling wine. Each and every kindred bowed their head low as the Mother Matriarch passed. Bleak was shocked to see the commander and captain do the same. Everyone watched as Allehra walked towards Bleak and Bleak felt the burn of several eyes on her. Allehra took up a position beside her and gestured for all to continue with their business with a flick of her hand. The Valians went back to their food and conversations, though Swinton’s eyes still lingered on them.
‘Given the prompt arrival of our guests, we need to make the most of our time together. Where is Luka?’ said Allehra.
‘I … I haven’t seen her.’
Allehra looked sceptical. ‘I heard of your little run-in at circuit one.’
Oh.
‘Find her. Make amends. I expect to see you both within the hour. There is much work to do.’
Bleak heaved a sigh and pushed off from the tree she’d been leaning against. Would she never have a moment’s peace again? She longed for an afternoon on the jetty, overlooking the water, a cold pint of ale in her hand and the coastal sun kissing her face.
I’ll never take it for granted again, she promised herself as she moved into the throng of Valians to search for the stocky redhead. Bleak didn’t know how she felt about helping Neemah. She didn’t think she regretted it, but the trouble she’d caused Luka forced the guilt to tug from within. Luka had accepted her, included her, and offered up her mind for violation without a sniff of complaint. And Bleak had humiliated her. She did owe the young Valian an apology. She had to find her. But Luka was nowhere in sight.
Bleak squeezed between the kindred gathered around the fire and looked for Luka in her usual corners. She tried not to focus on the fact that she’d soon again be in the eerie confines of the warrior’s mind, pushing her way through sixteen years of memories. She hadn’t forgotten that she’d nearly lost herself there. Perhaps it was time she had an honest conversation with Allehra about it. Allehra could help her. Perhaps there was a way to anchor yourself to the present while delving into someone’s past? Bleak was thinking so much about her training that she bumped into the commander, who was standing alert and tense at the edge of the keep. His burnt-umber eyes looked into hers, and she fought the urge to shrink away. She was not his prisoner. If anyone was in danger in Valia, it was him. She sidestepped around him, saying nothing. She should tell Henri about the map she’d seen him with when they were in the Hawthornes. She didn’t know what exactly she’d seen, but his reaction had only made her more suspicious.
‘I’m telling yer, the northern waters in high season are rough enough to turn any sailor’s gut,’ Bren was telling Tilly.
‘Rubbish,’ the Valian retorted. ‘I’ve been all over the realm, and the East Seas around Moredon Tower are the worst. Even Henri was green for three days when we sailed from Felder’s Bay to Havennesse. Bet you’ve never been —’
Bleak cleared her throat and both Bren and Tilly looked up, surprised.
‘Have either of you seen Luka?’ she asked, wringing her hands.
Bren shook his head.
‘Try the outer keep. A bunch of the younger Valians have made one of the willows there their usual haunt,’ said Tilly.
‘Thanks.’ Bleak ducked away from the pair, who launched right back into their debate. Bleak ignored the lurch in her stomach and continued to trudge through the undergrowth. The trainee kindred were gathered in the outer keep, throwing daggers at a board hanging from one of the trees.
‘Bet you wouldn’t be game to hold the target,’ Luka said with a laugh as one of the young women threw a dagger and it landed at the very edge of the board, far from
the star in the middle.
‘Luka?’ Bleak said, and the redhead turned around, her smile fading.
‘What do you want?’
‘To apologise.’
‘Right.’
‘No, really.’
The kindred around Luka were staring at Bleak with obvious dislike. They shifted impatiently, eager to get back to their game. Their thoughts buzzed almost in unison as Bleak took a step towards Luka.
‘If you don’t have a sense of loyalty in Valia, you don’t have anything,’ Luka said, picking up a dagger from the selection nearby and holding it by the tip, preparing to send it flying at the target.
Bleak knew what she had to do. She jumped in the line of fire and pulled the board from the tree.
‘What the —’
Bleak positioned herself before Luka, lifting up the board, just above her own head.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Bleak said, glancing up at the board. ‘I truly am. And the way I see it, I trust you enough not to kill me with your next throw.’
‘Yes, you trust me. I haven’t done anything to make you feel otherwise. I haven’t broken your trust. It’s your loyalty in question, not mine.’
There was a murmur of agreement from the group.
‘Three throws,’ Bleak heard herself say, already feeling her palms growing clammy. ‘You get three throws. If you feel like embedding a dagger in me at one point during those three throws, I won’t hold it against you. Three throws, regardless of what target you find. But then we put the whole Neemah thing behind us.’
Luka considered the dagger she was holding, and then the board above Bleak’s head.
‘Done,’ she said, and let the dagger fly. Bleak didn’t even have time to flinch. There was a thud in the wood and she had to steady the board wobbling from the dagger’s impact, a hair’s breadth away from where her fingers were.
One.
A kindred passed Luka another dagger, and Luka adjusted her stance, side on, weapon raised. The wood thudded again. This time, the impact sang through Bleak’s left hand. One of the women let out a low whistle through her teeth, enough to tell Bleak how close she’d just come to losing her fingers.
Two.
The third and final dagger was presented to Luka, and Bleak took a deep breath. She couldn’t focus on Luka’s thoughts with all the adrenaline pounding in her ears. Bleak looked straight at Luka, forcing herself to keep her eyes open and her breathing steady. The flick of Luka’s wrist was a blur, and the dagger hurtled towards Bleak. Impact. Her heart stopped. Had it hit her? Was she in shock?
The kindred around her let out a cheer and hands clapped her on the shoulders. The board was taken from her. In it, the final dagger was buried dead centre in the target. Luka grinned at her and offered her hand. Bleak took it, still in shock as the Valian squeezed her fingers in a firm grip.
‘How’d you know I wasn’t going to hit you?’
‘I didn’t.’
Luka laughed and slung an arm around Bleak’s neck. ‘Best apology I’ve ever gotten,’ she said.
Bleak wiped her sweaty hands on her pants. ‘Allehra wants us to meet her.’
‘Since when?’
‘’Bout a half hour ago.’
Luka was panic-stricken. ‘Gods, Bleak – why didn’t you say?’
‘I wanted you to choose.’
‘What?’
‘I wanted you to choose to forgive me, not be forced.’
Luka stared at her.
‘Well? Come on,’ Bleak said finally. ‘Lead the way.’
Luka yanked her daggers from the target, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘What?’ Bleak demanded.
Luka started back towards the keep, suddenly laughing. ‘You’re just not quite what we expected, Angovian.’
Chapter 20
The passages of Luka’s mind were darker this time, made of black, glossy stone, as though the memories here had been solidified long ago, a permanent part of Luka’s psyche. Even the ground beneath Bleak’s boots was hard, shiny ore, and her footsteps echoed down the strange, eerie chambers. Once again, doorways lined each side of the passage, some leading off onto new passages of their own. Various versions of Luka filled these rooms, each pocket of memory heightened with tension and desperation that tugged at Bleak’s own insides. She slowed at the door on her left.
Luka was in her early teen years, perhaps thirteen, but no older. She and Athene sat on the edge of a bed similar to the one Bleak had seen in Tilly’s quarters. Athene had a comforting arm around her daughter’s slumped shoulders, and Luka had her head in her hands, her wild, red hair unbound and spilling through her fingers.
‘If I fight her, I’ll win,’ she ground out.
‘Good. You’re a skilled fighter, Luka,’ said Athene.
‘Ma, if I win, she’ll go to the Sticks.’
‘I know, but you have no choice. It’s the Valian Way.’
‘She’s my friend, Ma. My best friend.’
‘Luka, you must fight.’
‘I can’t —’
‘You can, and you will.’
‘I won’t be responsible for banishing her.’
‘You’ve helped banish dozens before her. Some of them were your friends, too.’
‘And I hate myself for it. Every damn day.’
Athene’s arm slid from Luka’s shoulders. ‘Do not use that tone with me.’
‘Ma, can’t you speak to Henri —’
‘And bring attention to your weakness? Gods, Luka, have I taught you nothing?’
‘She’s my friend,’ Luka pleaded as she got to her feet and started pacing the room.
‘You think you are the only Valian to have lost a friend to the Sticks? She won’t die, Luka.’ Athene stood and stepped towards the young teen, her hands out, palms up, beseeching her daughter.
‘She won’t be a kindred anymore.’
‘Neither will you if you refuse to fight her.’
‘I’ll fight anyone but her.’
‘You know it doesn’t work like that.’
‘It doesn’t work at all – these rules, they’re —’
‘Don’t. Don’t ever let me hear you turn your back on our people. I’m an elite kindred, first-in-command to Henrietta Valia.’
‘I know who you are, Ma.’
‘Do you? If you did, I don’t think there would be a choice here. I didn’t think there was.’
‘What?’
‘Tomorrow, you lose a friend or a mother.’
‘Ma —’
Bleak was tugged away, forcefully, like a rope had been tied around her chest and someone on the other end was reeling her in. These were long-term memories, she realised as she passed door after door, but they were also more than that. Rife with inner conflict and turmoil, these were all formative events in Luka’s life, the choices that had made her who she now was.
‘Go back to bed, Luka.’ Athene’s voice sounded from nearby. Six-year-old Luka’s face peered out into the living quarters from the bedroom. Henri was sitting on the windowsill, her legs dangling over the other side, smoking a pipe.
‘My side hurts,’ said Luka, ‘look.’ She lifted her nightshirt to reveal a patchwork of blues and purples.
‘You should have blocked faster,’ Athene said. ‘You’ll learn.’
‘Ma —’
‘Back to bed, can’t you see Her Majesty is here?’
Henri didn’t turn around to greet Luka, but blew a cloud of smoke into the air above her head. Bleary-eyed, Luka simply stared at the matriarch’s back.
‘Luka, now.’
The small child disappeared into the bedroom, and suddenly, Bleak was beside her, looking out into the living quarters from a crack in the timber. Athene approached Henri and gently took the pipe from her.
‘You’re smoking too much of that,’ she said, tipping the pipe upside down and tapping the bottom. Its dark contents fell, swept up into the breeze outside.
�
�You take liberties,’ Henri said darkly.
‘Someone has to.’
Henri was quiet, and her hand crept across the windowsill to reclaim the pipe from Athene. She took a pouch from her leathers and began packing the pipe with the same strange herbs as before.
‘Your Majesty, it’s been weeks since she died.’
‘Died … It makes it sound like it happened to her. She chose this, Athene.’
‘You’re angry with her. We can all understand that; she was your sister.’
Henri stood suddenly, and Bleak saw her clearly for the first time. The warrior’s face was hollow and unusually pale. The kohl that lined her eyes had smudged, as though it hadn’t been removed for days. Her braid was a mess, with wisps of her midnight hair framing her too-sharp jawline and highlighting the deep, purple circles below her bottom lashes. She looked crazed.
‘My sister?’ Henri snapped, her voice trembling with violence. Her hand lashed out, and a decanter of wine jerked from the benchtop and smashed loudly on the floorboards, making Bleak and young Luka jump. The wine pooled and crept across the timber, soaking into the grain like spilt blood.
‘She wasn’t just my sister,’ Henri said, ‘she was my life force, my leader, my queen.’
‘As you are now ours.’ Athene reached out, hesitated, and then tucked a strand of hair behind Henri’s ear.
Henri was very still, her fists clenched by her sides. ‘I never wanted this.’
‘I know.’
‘I – I don’t think I can do it.’
Athene stepped closer to her. ‘Yes, you can.’
A muscle in Henri’s jaw worked, and she shoved Athene up against the wall, their boots crunching atop the broken glass before their mouths crashed together. Henri’s hands gripped the back of Athene’s neck, bringing her closer, deepening their kiss. Henri’s desperation and despair were palpable, and she clawed at the laces of Athene’s leathers, which came undone beneath her frantic fingers. Athene’s hands went to Henri’s waist, bringing their bodies together.
Heart of Mist Page 21
