The wooden door to the queen’s study opened, and Alloria walked in. Her back was arched proudly, but worry clouded her face. There wasn’t enough makeup in Unsel to hide the despondent droop in her eyes or quiver in her chin. She wore her sadness like a chip on her shoulder, and that chip appeared to weigh a ton.
She passed him without making eye contact, bumping her thigh on the corner of the desk as she rushed to the high-backed chair. She wore an old-fashioned crown that featured a velvet inset, covering her scalp. His shoulders lightened, his burden lifting as the taste of sweet revenge renewed his spirits. Her hair barely showed beneath the crown. The teasing curl that usually dropped over her eyebrow was gone, and the long flowing mane now replaced by a thinnish ponytail the width of two fingers.
He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d complained about her poor decisions, but couldn’t have asked for anything better. Almost anything. She breathed in deeply, which was easy to see in her lower-than-usual corset. She must’ve hoped her breasts would distract from her baldness. For him, at least, they did not.
“Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” He did his best to hide the smirk in his voice.
“No, Captain Guard. Please report,” she said in a quiet voice.
“It seems the holes are advancing faster than anticipated,” he said, leaning to one side for a better view of her profile.
Alloria frantically tucked several hairs back into their velvet cage.
“I anticipate that we have only ten to twelve days before they arrive.” He took several steps to the side of the greymaul desk for a better view.
“The towns in the sinkhole’s path, have they been evacuated?” she asked, inching her chair around noisily in a vain attempt to keep up with his advance.
“Your Majesty, it seems something is wrong.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully with a nub. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Her eyes instantly grew wide and she gasped loudly. “What did you do?”
He merely raised his thin eyebrows.
“You stole my hair!” she screamed, standing and pointing at him. “I’ll have you quartered for this!”
“Not me, Your Majesty,” he warned. “Him.”
“Him?” She sat roughly. “The Vivek? But why?”
He raised both hands in front of his face, though the missing fingers left one of his watchful eyes uncovered. “You wished to empower wielders, to make a militia.” He shook his head. “Not only is that a disgusting notion, but against his wishes. You realize we are working for him, that we follow his orders.”
“You really think that was my plan?” she challenged. “You are a fool.”
“You told Rook to gather them, Majesty,” he said mockingly.
She sank deeper into the leather chair, pressing two of her fingers together and tapping her chin as she pondered. He had hoped for more. Apologies, compromises, total submission. Anything but pondering. The young woman ruled with her cleavage, and those breasts couldn’t possibly be that intelligent. She was only seventeen, what could she know? She launched from the chair, smiling broadly.
Vars stared in surprise at this sudden turnabout as she passed him without word and made her way toward the door.
“Your Majesty,” he said. “The ambassadors from Meldusia and Nordruaut have scheduled a meeting—”
“It will have to wait,” she said. “Please give them my sincere apologies and reschedule like a dear, would you? I must fix something.”
10
After another day of marching through thickets and skirting the roads, Dallow seemed almost graceful in comparison to his first day with the memndus stone. He hopped up onto a snowy log and lifted both hands, one holding his staff horizontally for balance. Victoria and Angst clapped at the sudden performance, which made Dallow smile. Without further warning, he summoned his gazelle swifen. It seemed carved from wood and shone as if freshly polished.
“What are you doing?” Hector snapped, looking around the woods as if they were surrounded.
“You said when I could handle walking, we would ride.” Dallow mounted the swifen as if his eyes had never been taken. “Let’s ride.”
“There’s another problem that needs resolving.” Hector’s gaze slid over to Angst.
“That could take forever!” Tarness said. “Are you planning to walk all the way to Rose?”
“Hey!” Angst shot Tarness a glare.
“Don’t blame Tarness for your problems with your sword.” Victoria smirked.
Dallow and Tarness laughed.
“No, I mostly blame you,” Angst replied.
“Kids...” Hector interrupted Victoria’s quickly arching back.
“Tarness is right,” Dallow said, scratching under the blue kerchief covering his eyes. “Whatever is holding you back from properly using the sword is going to take a lot more than a walk in the woods. Whether you’re alone or not.”
Hector shook his head as the others summoned their swifen. Victoria squeed when her pink flying unicorn appeared and hugged the forlorn creature.
“I know how she feels,” Angst muttered.
Victoria ignored him as she mounted.
Angst’s ram appeared far healthier than before. It was now solid steel and reinforced with more muscles, as if it had been lifting weights for a year. He grinned; something about it gave him hope, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he heard a distant song. Was that Chryslaenor reaching out or Dulgirgraut finally saying hello? It was too quiet to identify, but it was something. His ram reared back onto its hind legs. He looked over his shoulder at Hector.
“Coming?” He grinned.
The cold went from bitter to biting as a dank wind picked up from the nearby ocean. The distant sound of waves crashing on the shoreline grew louder as the crunch of gravel slowly became sand. Angst knew sheer stubbornness kept Victoria from riding with him. Her teeth were chattering loudly enough to be heard, in spite of Dallow acting as a buffer between them.
“You know,” Angst said across Dallow, “you’d be warmer if you put on your riding gear instead of the Berfemmian armor—”
“You’re going to complain about my armor?” She turned enough for him to glimpse cleavage. Even in the dusk of twilight, he saw that her skin was blotchy from the cold.
Angst smirked, and she smiled back, her eyes apologizing. A little.
“Ugh,” Dallow grunted.
“What?” Angst asked.
“You two... Just...Never mind.” Dallow shook his head. “If I may ask, since Angst is too afraid, there is something we’ve all been wondering.”
“The sealed document from my mother?” she asked.
Angst winced. He’d been trying to ignore this. It was the first sliver in their divide. She’d lied about sneaking out, about being there for him. The entire time she’d been representing Unsel, and merely using them for transportation.
“Not the entire time,” she said.
“Huh?” Tarness looked at Victoria, his thick eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
“Answering him, his thoughts,” she said, jerking her head at Angst. “My mother and I had a falling out before I left. She gave me an ultimatum—either I go on adventures with Angst or I remain in Unsel as a princess. I chose Angst.”
Angst looked at her, his eyes wide with surprise, but she stared at the ground.
“I found that parchment in my bags after almost drowning in the lake.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Your Majesty,” Hector said.
“It’s my choice,” she answered, her voice filled with royalty. “And I will.”
“But, I thought you were a seer. Why didn’t you know it was in there?” Tarness asked.
“It’s a thing, not a person,” Dallow explained. “That’s why she needs to be close, or even make contact in order to see our possible futures. Right?”
“Yes, Mr. Dallow,” she said brightly. “That, and my abilities haven’t been working one hundred percent, especially with any future that
touches a foci.”
“Can’t you see your own future?” Tarness pressed.
“I know my future,” she said worriedly. “But a lot of things could happen on the way. Honestly, I almost threw out the parchment. Using it meant I was there representing the crown instead of adventuring with friends, but Angst was so sick I decided to keep it in case. I guess I’m glad I did.” She smiled at Angst proudly before frowning at his expression. “What?”
“Your mother...” Angst grimaced.
“Careful,” Hector whispered.
“You were doing exactly what you wanted, finally getting away from her, and out of that castle,” he said through gritted teeth. This reaffirmed everything he hated about the queen. “And what does she do? She loosens the leash just enough, and then jerks it right back. I guarantee you, she’ll still be pulling your strings from her grave—”
“Angst,” Tarness and Dallow said at the same time.
The words had come out without thought. He’d meant them in Victoria’s defense, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. Victoria had gone pale. Her lip was quivering, and she gripped her chest as if she’d taken an arrow. She rode off along the sandy shore, the wings of her swifen stretching wide.
He looked at Hector.
“Fix this, Angst,” Hector barked as if giving an order. “We’ll set up camp.”
“It’s not that easy,” Angst snapped. “We aren’t all soldiers.”
“You should be,” Hector called out as Angst walked away.
Angst drew power from Dulgirgraut to catch up, but it wasn’t necessary. Victoria hadn’t gone far, merely beyond sight of the others. She sat on a sandy hill, looking off into the ocean. Angst leaped from his slowing ram and clumsily flopped onto the sand. He fought mounds of the cold beach, struggling with every crawl before awkwardly resting beside her. There was no such thing as moving gracefully through sand in armor. She continued staring out, all color drained from her face.
“She can’t fly,” Victoria whispered. “Not without you or that sword.”
“I think she can fly for you, Tori,” he said. “When you really need her to.”
She looked at him before collapsing into a heap of racking tears and shattered heart. Angst drew his best friend close. He’d never felt so helpless, unable to bandage her pain with words or laughter or kindness. Ever-so-gently, Angst placed an arm on her shoulder. Victoria pulled him down to lie beside her in the sand, and buried herself in his chest.
The young princess, the young queen, sobbed helplessly, relentlessly in a way Angst had never seen. Patting her hair, he placed his cheek against her temple as tears dripped from his armor. He squeezed her tight, with every ounce of reassurance he could gather. Angst wished he could will love and understanding into the embrace, it didn’t feel like a hug could be enough.
The sound of crunching sand made Angst lift his head. A gamlin, one of his sentinels, popped out of the ground inches from his feet. Its little face looked sad, and it rubbed its hands forlornly. Two more gamlin crawled out of the sand and stood at both sides of the first, looking remorseful.
Victoria pulled herself away from his chest slowly and looked at the creatures. “What...” she sputtered. “What are they doing?”
“Understanding,” Angst said sadly. “Now that Earth is gone, they’ve lost their mother, too, I guess. My...the gamlin are intelligent, in their own way. They feel, they regret, and they mourn.”
“She’s really dead, Angst. Tyrell too. My only family.” She looked up at him with doey eyes.
Angst wanted nothing more than to make it better. It felt as if a hand had gripped his heart and squeezed. “Not your only family.”
She smiled at this, touching his cheek thoughtfully. Angst leaned in, longing to hold her close, closer, but there was something else. Tori tilted her head up, and her lips were slightly parted. His heart raced forward even as his mind reeled back. He needed her to know how much he loved her but knew it was wrong. They were so close, and a part of him wanted this, had always wanted this. They hovered only inches apart for moments, for an eternity, before she jerked her head back.
“What?” She glanced at the gamlin gripping her foot.
Another gamlin placed a hand on her shoulder and the third held Angst’s arm. Victoria looked at him with reluctant eyes at a moment lost then opened her arms open wide. The three gamlin ran to her like toddlers. She carefully hugged them all, and Angst cuddled all four of them gently for a moment before letting go and purposely falling over to one side. Victoria giggled as she pushed the gamlin away, poking the tummy of the closest. They skittered back to their triangular point, crossing their arms.
Angst pushed himself up to his knees and looked into her eyes. She deserved more time; both to mourn and to come to terms with being queen. He knew she would get through this, though, and would do what he could to help. She was his best friend, and she deserved it.
“I can do this.” Victoria sniffed.
“I know you can,” Angst agreed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For being so upset about the parchment.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “You were right. I didn’t tell you about it, and in spite of that, you still believed in me. I heard you tell Hector, felt you believe in me. That’s how I was able to keep up the facade. Everything from negotiating with the king to whatever I was doing with Crloc. I was trying to be like you, for you, Angst.”
Now his eyes were blurry with wet as he held Victoria once again.
“I know I can be a bitch, and I ignore you too much,” she said quietly.
“And you’re mean,” he whispered.
She started shoving away until she saw him smirk.
“You can be a bitch, and I hate it when you ignore me because you know it hurts and you still do it,” he said. “So, yes, you are mean. But I believe in you because you’re amazing, and you’re my best friend. You always will be.”
“Just...” She swallowed hard. “Just shut up.”
After another long hug, she looked up.
“Angst,” she sounded concerned.
“What?” he asked.
“Look over your shoulder,” she said.
He didn’t need to. The warm glow of Dulgirgraut reflected in Victoria’s wide eyes. He smiled.
“Are we in danger?” She frowned.
He cocked his head to the side and closed his eyes. Music. A deep, somber dirge. Distant but distinctly different from Chryslaenor.
“No, I think it’s starting to come back.” Angst nodded. “Maybe this is what I needed, to clear the air.”
“You two should be alone,” she suggested.
He stood and held out his hand. Victoria took it and pulled herself up. She brushed sand off herself and then him, finishing with a firm smack to his rear. Angst looked at her in surprise, which made her giggle.
“I’m sorry for...stuff,” she said.
“Me too,” Angst agreed as they walked along the beach. “All of it.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Nothing has changed,” Angst said. “Your Highness,” he mocked.
Victoria shoved her shoulder into him, but didn’t let go of his arm. “I need a drink,” she muttered.
“Just one?”
“All of them.”
11
After delivering Victoria to camp, Angst continued his walk along the shoreline, periodically staring out at the ocean. She’d suggested stripping off his armor and boots and walking barefoot in the sand. About how freeing it would feel, in spite of the cold. It was definitely cold. His teeth chattered slightly as the wake pulled and pushed, sloshing over his naked toes, which were now mostly numb. He’d left footprints behind him, but the icy ocean soon lapped at his trail, washing away his breadcrumbs. He’d never been this close to the ocean. The freezing water kept him alert, and the sand was...well, it was sort of fun.
Victoria was like that sand, ever-changing in the ebb and flow of tides he barely understoo
d. Mere weeks ago, he’d awoken beside her naked body, leaving him absolutely torn between guilt and wonder. He was married and shouldn’t have even been sleeping with her—never mind naked, never mind enjoying it—but he was so convinced his marriage was broken that he wondered if his princess was an answer. It felt like they’d resolved their issues and were friends again. Mostly. That almost-kiss still hung before him like an unanswered question, leaving him unsure once again.
After seeing the death of her mother and Tyrell, Victoria hadn’t turned to him; she had turned away. Their unbreakable friendship—which had seemed on the verge of more than friendship—was pushed aside like it had never happened. The wariness he felt in her was like Heather’s. It was as if they expected something else, or wanted more from him, no matter how much he gave. The only thing they had in common was him, and their reactions were identical. There had to be something missing. Something he said, or didn’t say. Something he did, or didn’t do. Or maybe it was just him.
Angst still felt broken. His friends had come all this way to help him bond with a foci again, to save him. And yes, Dulgirgraut made him complete and strong, like he could be the hero he’d always wanted to be. The one he was meant to be. But then why the emptiness? Why did it feel like something was still missing? Great deeds, heroic events, magical things were all part of his life, but was this it? Shouldn’t he just be happy with the direction of his life? Looking up from his sandy toes, he took a deep breath and admired the shoreline. A reflection of moonlight on the beach caught his eye.
From this distance, he could barely make out a shape lying in the sand. Was it a large fish washed up on shore, or something more dangerous, waiting for a snack? He really wasn’t in the mood to be dinner. It didn’t move, and as he approached, the silhouette took shape. Was it a body? He sped up, cursing his numb feet which made it hard to run.
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