by Cayla Kluver
“And what if Narian doesn’t come to me tonight? What then?”
“He will.”
With that, London departed, the click of the door sounding like a death sentence, and panic hit me with surprising force. My hands shook, and my thoughts crashed together, making it impossible for me to concentrate on any particular aspect of the situation. I thought of Narian, who could arrive within the hour. If I remained in this state, he would see through me in an instant and I would have no chance of doing what London wanted. I needed to calm myself and think this through. I sat down and closed my eyes, deliberately slowing my breathing, hoping to also slow my racing blood.
If I did as London had directed, there would be bloodshed. The tremulous peace Narian and I had established would be eradicated. On the other hand, the only way to stop London and the others would be to tell Narian what I knew—which would also lead to bloodshed. I walked to the mantel, the path suddenly quite clear. If it were possible to reclaim Hytanica… how could I oppose such an end? I poured wine from a jug into two chalices, thankful London had at least given me the option of protecting the man I loved from the fray.
I heard a noise from my bedroom and jumped, almost knocking over the goblet intended for Narian, and spilling some of the sleep-inducing drug London had given me. I brushed it over the mantel’s edge and into the barren fireplace where it would not be seen, reminding myself to behave normally.
“Are you all right?” Narian had entered the parlor and was scrutinizing me from across the room.
“Of course,” I said, forcing a cheerful tone.
His eyes darted around the room’s perimeter. “You just… look pale.”
“There’s hardly any light. So how can you tell—am I glowing?”
He smiled, relaxing a little.
“Sit down and have some wine with me,” I invited, moving to the sofa. He joined me, and I offered him the tainted drink, which he accepted with a puzzled expression.
“You’re shaking, Alera.”
“I’m cold.”
“It’s quite warm.”
“But the evening temperatures drop quickly now that summer’s sultriness has passed. The wine helps.” I took a sip from my goblet, deliberately stilling my hand.
“So would a quilt,” he pointed out. “You detest wine.”
I laughed uncomfortably, trying not to recoil at the flavor of the drink.
Narian was taking his time. Did he suspect there was something wrong? He knew there was something wrong with me, yes, but perhaps the wine smelled off and it had alerted him. London had given me an abundance of the herb, whatever it was, and I had used it all.
Narian let go of his reservations and lifted the goblet to his lips, and nausea hit me full force. London believed Narian to be nothing more than a dangerous weapon, one that would fight against us, and he was right that I was the only one around whom Narian would lower his guard. Would London, thinking of the greater good, be willing to use me to poison and kill his enemy?
“Stop!” I cried, reaching out to grab the goblet and spilling wine all over the rug. Narian leaped to his feet, tensed for a fight, and I burst into tears.
“Alera, what is it?” he asked, not sympathetic, but demanding and urgent.
I was gasping, unable to catch my breath and feeling like I might vomit.
“It’s London. He asked me to drug you. He said I had to do it, for Hytanica.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He left. He said their plan was to kill the sentries on the wall and close the city. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
I wasn’t sure to whom I was apologizing, or even for what exactly, but the guilt was close to unbearable. I put my hands over my face, my heart splintering at the thought of every one of the night’s possible outcomes.
Narian ran to the door, and I summoned the strength to follow him. We flew down the Grand Staircase, where he snapped orders to the Cokyrian guards at the doors.
“Rouse Rava and alert the soldiers on duty to monitor the city walls. There is a rebel party waiting to strike and I want them caught, now. Bring them here alive.”
The guards left to carry out his instructions, and Narian turned to me.
“Alera, I will do everything I can to protect the people you care about, you know that. But I will not be focused unless I know you are safe. Please, stay here.”
I nodded, despite my desire to do anything except stay put, and he kissed me deeply right in the middle of the Grand Entry Hall, without a care for secrecy.
“Be safe,” I murmured, watching him go. For a moment, I stood indecisively in place, then went into the Hearing Hall, not wanting to return to my quarters.
It was late and at first silent, but after a while I became aware of vague noises—shuffling sounds and occasionally what I could have sworn were muffled voices. They seemed to be coming from one of the rooms at the other end of the hall. I drew near to the dungeon door and eased it open, for I was not aware that we were keeping any prisoners in the Bastion. Voices floated up to me from the narrow, dank stairwell.
“That’s the last of them,” said a young man who sounded unsettlingly like Temerson. “They’re in Steldor’s and Galen’s hands now.”
“The men in the villages are armed. My crew has met every hunting party and seen them fitted, and continues to do so.” This time it was London who had spoken—his voice I knew well. “There’s no more to be done right now.”
“Except wait.” Was it my father? “Are you quite certain we’re not under suspicion? That Alera doesn’t—”
“Alera will have done exactly what I expected. That’s all that’s important.”
I took umbrage at London’s tone—he spoke of me like a servant who had been given orders. Without thinking, I backed up, scuffing my shoes against the stone floor.
“Quiet!” I heard someone hiss, and they all fell silent. I hesitated, knowing my presence had been detected, then opened the door and felt my way down the dark staircase, making sure they heard my approach. As I neared the bottom, I called out to them, not wanting to have my throat slit.
“London, is that you?”
The blood was pounding in my temples as I stepped into the main area, off of which corridors led to individual dungeon cells. A torch on the wall opposite me was lit, and the faces of the men standing in front of it were in shadow. One of them walked forward, and I knew from the familiar build and gait that it was my bodyguard.
“Alera, what are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that,” I retorted, and he put a finger to his lips, telling me to keep my voice down.
We stared at each other for a moment, then fear of who was involved in this takeover plot, of who might be killed, took hold.
“I told Narian,” I blurted. “You must abandon this now, before it goes any further. He doesn’t know names, so it’s not too late.”
“It is too late,” London disagreed, placing a hand on my arm. “At least for Halias and his men. They are already in place, and I must join them.”
“No,” I breathed. “Can’t you stop them?”
He shook his head, then looked at the two men behind him. “But your father and Temerson don’t have to come with me. Their part in this does not need to be known.”
“And what part have they played?”
London sighed and ran a hand through his silver hair. “They have helped me smuggle in weapons from outside. We can’t fight without
weapons.”
I nodded, certain things falling into place for me. London had probably not been spending time with Tanda. I had, unwittingly, made it possible for him to be gone but not missed, permitting him to go out through the escape tunnel to acquire weapons, most likely from neighboring kingdoms. My father and Temerson had been helping to move those weapons into the hands of the rebels during the night.
“Go, Alera,” London urged. “Go back to your quarters and forget what you know. King Adrik and Temerson will follow, but I must join the others. Whether or not we will be successful remains to be seen, but your loved ones will be safe regardless.”
“Not all of them,” I choked out, the thought that he might die making it difficult to breathe.
“I will be careful.”
“I’m sorry, London.”
He gave me a slight smile. “You did what you thought was for the best. I must do the same. Now, please go.”
I made some sound of acquiescence and London lifted the torch from its bracket, shining its light into the stairway as I climbed up. I glanced back one last time before I reentered the Hearing Hall, wondering if I would see him again—alive.
I closed the door to the dungeon behind me and hurried across the hall, exiting through the King’s Drawing Room to reach the second floor by means of the spiral staircase. From there, I hurried past the library and on to my quarters. I entered the parlor and threw myself down on the sofa, trying not to think, trying not to feel. Things had been put in motion that I could not stop, could not affect, and every outcome I foresaw was filled with blood and death and regret.
CHAPTER TWELVE:
BRAVE MEN
SHASELLE
I knew something was wrong the moment I woke. Mother’s expression was pained at breakfast, and the noise from the street was louder than it should have been—most of the work in this part of the city had been completed during the summer. Dahnath and I exchanged glances, wondering what had happened during the night, while our younger siblings chatted obliviously, but I saw in my older sister’s gaze a warning not to ask. It was not our place to know unless Mother saw fit to tell us.
The shouts from outside grew louder, until they penetrated even the sensibilities of the children, quelling their talk.
“Mama?” Celdrid said, alarm creeping into his face.
“We’re staying indoors today,” Mother said, her voice flat. “It’s not safe—”
My heart exploded and I ducked as the dining room window shattered, spraying glass across the table’s surface. Lesette and Tulara screamed; Ganya burst into tears; Dahnath’s chair toppled, followed by a crash, for she had fallen to the floor with Celdrid in her arms. Mother sprang to her feet, drawing all eyes to her.
“Everyone, upstairs,” she ordered, her voice strained with fear. She began to pull the younger girls to their feet, gathering them around her to head for the staircase.
I emerged from beneath the table, my eyes taking in both the stone that had caused the damage and the smear of blood across the tablecloth that told me someone had been hurt.
“It’s okay, baby,” Dahnath soothed, trying not to touch Celdrid’s injured hand.
“Get some bandages and alcohol,” Mother urgently directed me, and I hurried into the kitchen to grab the necessary supplies.
I wasted no time in joining my family in our parents’ bedroom, where the younger girls were huddled together on the bed. Dahnath was sitting at the dressing table, holding Celdrid in her lap while Mother examined his injury, but even from the distance at which I stood, I could see the shards of glass protruding from his palm.
“Mother, what’s going on?” I demanded. Celdrid whimpered as she began to pluck out the shards, tears drowning his cheeks, and I cringed.
“Nothing that concerns us! We live in a dangerous time, Shaselle. Our only responsibility is to keep ourselves safe.”
“Safe from what?” I persisted, earning a glare from Dahnath.
Mother held out her hand. “Alcohol, please.”
I was still clasping the medical supplies and hastened forward to bring them to her. She looked plaintively at me, and I dampened a cloth with the alcohol for her use.
Celdrid sobbed, then tried to fight Mother and Dahnath off, remembering the pain of alcohol cleansing from previous injuries. I knew it myself.
“Shaselle, help us!” Dahnath exclaimed, and I took the bandage from Mother, wrapping it around my brother’s hand while they clasped him tight. He kicked at me, getting me once in the ribs, then collapsed against his oldest sister, and I poured more of the offending substance through the fabric and into his wound.
Celdrid’s breathing was uneven, but he had exhausted himself, and Mother knelt to take him into her arms, kissing him on top of his head. He curled up against her, needing her comfort, and she whispered further instructions to Dahnath and me.
“Go back downstairs and get my sewing materials, but stay away from the doors and windows.”
I nodded, fighting nausea, for I knew what she intended to do, then left with my sister to creep down the stairs.
“Something did happen,” I whispered to her as we reached the landing.
“Yes, but we don’t need to figure it out right now.” She likewise kept her volume down, although with the noise outside, I doubted anyone could have heard us.
“You just don’t want to know.” I sounded more accusatory than I had intended, and Dahnath’s nostrils flared in indignation.
“You’re right, Shaselle. I don’t want to know. I want to stay safe. I want to keep Celdrid, Ganya, Lesette and Tulara safe. I want to survive this. Do you think knowing would make that any easier?”
I could have argued, but opted to keep my mouth shut. Her anger dissipated, just like Mother’s always did—she tended to remember that others had feelings. I could never quite grasp that concept when my temper flared.
“I want you to be safe, too, Shaselle,” she added, reaching out to touch my hair.
An abrupt pounding on the front door forestalled my response. My sister and I stood still, staring at each other, panic washing the color from our faces. Who wanted inside?
“Go back upstairs,” Dahnath muttered. “I’ll get what Mother needs.”
“But—”
“Just go.”
I nodded once, my breathing short and shallow, and Dahnath disappeared through the archway to our right. I hesitated, slightly embarrassed that she was either braver than I was or more responsible. The pounding on the door resumed, and even though I knew I should obey her, I stepped forward and threw it open. A man stood on the front stoop, his eyes wild.
“Sign a petition for release of the prisoners!” he yelled in my face, turning to make the same plea to the others crowding around him. “Free the prisoners!”
I snatched the document he was waving, seeing names scribbled in haphazard fashion up and down its length.
“What’s this for?” I shouted, fighting the general din.
“The brave men who will be executed for trying to reclaim our kingdom!”
The parchment slipped from my fingers to be caught up by someone else before the wind could take it. The sky was overcast, seeming more so every moment, but before I could press for additional information, the man pushed his way back toward the street, calling for signatures.
“Shaselle, close the door!”
It was Dahnath, standing with supplies in hand. She tugged me away and locked the
door without waiting for me to act.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she scolded.
“There have been arrests. I think there will be executions for some sort of revolt.”
“Who? Who has been arrested?” Dahnath demanded, her anger replaced by dread.
“I don’t know!”
We stared at one another, sharing an unspoken fear. Our family consisted of strong, indomitable military men. Whoever was behind this, it was almost guaranteed that Steldor, Galen or the captain was involved—if not all three. And Drael, Dahnath’s betrothed, had fought in the war and was as loyal to Hytanica as were the rest of the men. It was possible he had joined the fray, as well.
We returned to the bedroom and assisted Mother while she stitched Celdrid’s hand. He moaned and tried several times to pull away, but I held him fast against my chest.
“Be brave,” Dahnath murmured, stroking his hair to calm him. “It’s almost over, almost done.”
Finished, Mother splashed more alcohol over the sutures, then again tied a cloth bandage over the wound.
“Now don’t fuss with it,” she reproved, pulling Celdrid into her arms.
Neither my older sister nor I said a word about what we had learned, afraid of Mother’s reaction and of what she might tell us. Was it bliss or torture to be in the dark when the fate of our loved ones might already have been determined?
Hour by hour, the day wore on, and we tried to entertain the younger children with word games and rhymes. This became easier as our street gradually quieted, although I supposed that activity on the thoroughfare and around the Bastion remained out of control. After helping Dahnath to raid the kitchen for bread, cheese and fruit, I went to one of the second-story windows and watched Cokyrian soldiers sweeping through the neighborhood, subduing the small pockets of citizens who had no means to organize without the proper guidance. By my guess, the proper guidance was locked away.
