by Cayla Kluver
We were quite relieved when Galen came later in the day to tell us that the captain, Steldor and Drael were not among those arrested, granting us some measure of peace. My mood was darkened, however, by Mother’s news that she and Cannan had, prior to the failed revolt, arranged for another suitor to come to dinner, and that she saw no need to cancel the invitation. Her drive to maintain normalcy, especially given the renewed unrest, was that of a carriage horse wearing blinders—focused straight ahead, unable to see what was really going on around her. I grimaced, but said nothing, thinking that the occasion two days hence would at least give me a chance to find out what had happened in the uprising.
* * *
The day of the dinner threatened rain, and I had the nerve to be thankful, for it meant I would not have to go on a walk with our guest. The servants had by this time cleaned up the shattered remains of the broken window, and Mother had drawn the drapes to hide its condition and block out the nippy fall air, for there would be a long wait to obtain a new pane of glass.
In midafternoon, Dahnath undertook the not-so-simple task of trying to make me gorgeous. She was naturally attractive, for she took after Papa’s side of the family, with her auburn hair, dark eyes, slender figure and perfect features, while I was stocky, with chipmunk cheeks and long, flat brown hair. My hazel eyes, a match to my mother’s, were my one and only beauty.
Dressed in my favorite color, lavender, which Dahnath thought darling and Mother dubbed becoming, I once again sat nervously at the dinner table with my family, having given my solemn promise that I would be on my best behavior. My newest suitor had come with his father, which meant he was younger than the last—perhaps eighteen years of age. I could feel the older man’s eyes on me throughout the meal, judging me, even while he conversed with Cannan, with whom he was quite comfortable. I thought it likely he had been in the military before our forces had been disbanded.
The young man whom my uncle considered a marriage prospect didn’t look at me much, or say much, or seem to have much going on in his head at all. Perhaps I was being overly critical tonight—part of my irritation stemmed from not yet knowing the fates of the men who had been arrested—but still I resented him, despite his dark hair, sparkling green eyes and upturned nose. I scoffed internally, for how could I not resent someone who was prettier than me?
“Lady Shaselle, I must say, that gown is quite distinctive,” Lord Landru, the father, complimented, and I wondered vaguely who I was succeeding in attracting. I shot a scowl in Dahnath’s direction, feeling she should have been more honest with me about the dress. No one could quite bring themselves to say I looked lovely this evening. Descriptors like darling, becoming and distinctive sounded like praise one might give to a toddler who had picked her own wardrobe.
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, less politely than I should have, and Mother’s discontent loomed like another presence in the room.
As dinner ended, rain began to fall outside, and I could tell Mother was relieved when the captain invited our guests to move to the parlor. She would have been mortified if water had trickled into the dining room through the broken window while our company was present, although the movement of the drapes in the wind had probably revealed our secret by now.
The customary wine was served once we were situated, a splash in tiny glasses for my youngest siblings before they were sent to bed, and generously filled goblets for the rest of us. I wanted to keep company with my immediate family, but Cannan, who was still speaking to my suitor’s father, motioned for me to join them. It was only when I drew near that I realized the boy was there also, for he was smaller than the older men and as silent as a mouse.
“Perhaps you would converse with us,” Cannan suggested, the slightest bit of pressure in his tone, an indication that my behavior was not meeting his standards.
“I’m pleased to be asked,” I replied, giving a small curtsey in hopes of appeasing my uncle, for I didn’t want to risk his wrath.
“Young Lord Grayden excelled in military school,” the captain informed me. “I was telling our guests about our family’s military history, and of Baelic’s love for horses.”
I looked Grayden up and down, wondering how someone with his slight build could excel at anything that required strength and coordination, but kept such thoughts to myself.
“Papa did love horses,” I confirmed.
“I thought you might be pleased to know that Grayden has an interest in training them,” Cannan added.
“How wonderful,” I said, and this time my smile was sincere. When no one responded, I realized they were waiting for me to say something else. Not wanting to repeat my disastrous experience with Lord Taether, I kept my mouth closed, no doubt coming across as a bit thick in the head.
There was an awkward pause, then the young man’s father finished the rest of his wine.
“Shaselle, perhaps you would refill Lord Landru’s goblet,” my uncle said.
I nodded, knowing I should have made this offer without prompting. I was, after all, well-schooled in social graces; there were just times when I didn’t want to use them. As I proceeded with the task, walking toward the small refreshment table, I overheard Lord Landru’s remarks to Cannan.
“Your niece is a hardy girl. Does she cook?”
“She has the knowledge any wife should, but has relied primarily on servants throughout her life.”
“Good. If this marriage goes forward, I’ll be sure to hire a cook who’ll watch what that one eats.”
“Father!” Grayden reproached.
I forced my legs onward, having no desire to hear more. Cannan would want to defend me, but I could not expect him to do so—Landru and Grayden had come here to evaluate me, and had the right to ask questions and raise concerns. Nonetheless, the anger and humiliation Landru’s comments generated made my cheeks burn. How could I return to face him, knowing what he thought of me?
I sniffed once as I refilled the wineglasses, making up my mind that the opinions of our guests didn’t matter. None of this mattered. It couldn’t, or I would be a complete and utter failure. My resentment built and gained strength; at the same time, the wine I had consumed defeated my better sense, and an irresistible desire to retaliate took hold. That rude old Lord Landru needed to be shown how it felt to be disgraced.
Forcing a cheerful countenance, I sashayed back to the group of men, staring straight at Lord Landru as I offered him a fresh goblet of red wine.
“Here you are—”
The toe of my slipper caught on the rug and I pitched forward in a most unfortunate manner, the wine flying from its glass, splattering across Landru’s gold and ivory dress coat. He swore in a most ungentlemanly way, and my mother rushed over with a cloth to dab at his expensive clothing.
“You clumsy girl!” he sputtered. “Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh, my! I’m so sorry, my lord!” I apologized, my voice coated with sarcasm. “As hardy as I am, it’s just impossible to catch myself when I trip.”
Silence reigned and I could almost see the comprehension as it came to Cannan, Landru and Grayden. Then Landru surveyed me with undisguised contempt.
“Come, Grayden, we’re leaving. I’m sorry, Captain, but your niece is intolerable.”
“As are you, my lord,” Cannan replied, catching everyone by surprise. “I’ll walk you out.”
The three men left the parlor, but Grayden grinned over his shoulder at me, green eyes shining.
When C
annan returned, his gaze fell on me, and mine went to the floor. It was ironic that I had been worried about angering him before. Now I had intentionally spilled wine on one of his acquaintances, an offense deserving of punishment if for no other reason than my loss of temper. He approached me, his visage somber, though that in and of itself was not unusual. My anxiety grew while I waited for him to speak, wondering if eight lashes at the hands of the Cokyrians might not be better than what was about to rain down on me. To my astonishment, he took my hands in his.
“I’m sorry for Lord Landru’s conduct tonight. You should not have had to endure his criticism.”
“I shouldn’t have spilled wine on him,” I admitted, glancing past my uncle to my sister and mother, who still looked appalled.
“I remember a proud, loyal, fun-loving younger brother of mine who would have done the same.”
I stared at him, feeling stupid for wanting to cry. “Thank you,” I tried to say, but I ended up mouthing the words, for my throat was too tight for sound to emerge.
I was allowed to go to bed without reprimand from Mother or Dahnath, one blessing to add to the list I was required by God to count. But when I lay in bed, there were certain thoughts I could not banish from my mind.
I was ugly. I was fat. Cannan had said I should not have had to endure Landru’s criticism, but he hadn’t denied the truth of his assessments. Simply put, I was a burden to hand off to someone else, to the someone who would be my husband. And I was guilty of sabotaging every attempt to find a man willing to undertake that responsibility. If there were a lower being in the world, I dared anyone to introduce me.
And, at the end, the worst part of it was that I was a misfit. I was not a boy, but neither was I a proper girl. Nothing and no one could change that. And only a proper girl could attract and hold a noble young man. I curled up on my side, one thought continuously circulating: staying in this house, allowing myself to be presented to suitors with whom I was ill-suited, no longer made sense.
The pain I felt at these conclusions was physical—strange, since I knew it was all in my mind—and I struggled out of bed and to my double window, gauging it as a means of escape. Concluding that the tree branch that brushed against the house just within my reach would be strong enough to support my weight, I retreated to my wardrobe. Grabbing a canvas sack that I had used when riding with Papa, I packed a few shirts and pairs of breeches, then hastily penned a note to my mother.
Dear Mother. Please don’t worry about me, but I need to get away for a while, to think things through. I don’t believe I am a good candidate for marriage, and I need to figure out my place in life. I’ll be careful. Love, Shaselle.
I set the note on my pillow and swung a cloak over my shoulders, then hoisted myself through the window, struggling out onto the limb. I took a few deep breaths, then picked my way from tree branch to tree branch, scratching my arms and hands on the oak’s harsh bark. I grimaced but didn’t make a sound, hoping no one inside would hear the scraping of boots that accompanied my drop to the ground.
Once I had landed, I brushed the dirt from my raw hands, feeling quite accomplished. I inhaled deeply, taking one last look at my home, and walked into the night without any idea how long I would be gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
EXECUTE THEM ALL
ALERA
Halias and his men were in the dungeon. The High Priestess had been informed of the situation and could arrive this very evening, depending on how fast she traveled. Every Hytanican feared, and every Cokyrian hoped, that the offenders would be executed.
I had spent the afternoon in and around the Hearing Hall, although there had been little demand for audiences this day. Cannan was gone, and London had not returned to duty, a blessing for which I was extremely grateful. Even if no one else knew of my bodyguard’s involvement in the revolt attempt, I did, and through me, so did Narian. I didn’t know if I could face London, much less what I would say to him. It was because of me that most of his remaining brothers-in-arms were in prison. The remorse I felt was crushing.
I was about to return to my quarters when the Hearing Hall doors opened and Cannan entered. He halted when he saw me and I hastened toward him.
“I thought you’d left for the day,” I remarked, and he motioned me toward his office.
“I had—I needed to take care of some other business, but my thoughts have remained here.”
He held the door open for me, and we sat across from each other, he behind his desk and me before it like a pupil about to receive a lecture.
“The news has traveled fast,” he informed me. “Especially your role in this—the information is well distributed in the Bastion. For better or worse, you have aligned yourself with Narian in the eyes of Hytanicans and Cokyrians alike.”
I nodded, the feeble hope that my involvement had not become known dashed. Then guilt washed over me, for my personal situation was hardly of significance now.
“Will they be put to death?” I rasped, uttering the fear that made my skin turn cold. “Halias and the rest?”
Halias had been my sister’s bodyguard since she had been an infant, and I hated to think of the effect his execution would have on her. The men who had been arrested with Halias were former foot soldiers in the Hytanican army—men with families who depended on them. Each man who had died that night, each man who had been taken prisoner, had fought bravely for what he believed in, and I had the blood of every one of them on my hands.
“That will be decided by the High Priestess,” Cannan told me, but something in his stoic face betrayed his own belief. I swallowed, my mouth tasting foul.
“A noble person believes in a cause, and sees it through to the end,” he went on, leaning toward me. “That is what you are doing, Alera.”
“And you believe in my cause, do you?” I bitterly asked.
“I was not involved in last night’s incident.”
“Thank you for that,” I murmured, feeling a bit reprimanded. “And I’m sorry. They are your men.”
“They were. But these are different times, and men do what they must.”
I pondered his words, staring at my clasped hands, not daring to look at him again. He was so calm, so resigned. How could he accept this? Was it just an act to ease my guilt? Truly he must abhor me. Whatever the case, I could abide it no longer and hastily departed. I climbed the Grand Staircase to the second floor, noticing through the windows that the sun was setting, streaks of pink and orange painting the gray-blue sky. Coming to a decision, I quickened my pace and knocked on Narian’s door.
I was lucky to find him in his quarters—he was unendingly busy, especially now that the High Priestess was coming, and could have been anywhere. After a glance in both directions down the hall, he ushered me into what had, for many years, been my parlor. Given the considerable time we had stolen together in these quarters when I had been Crown Princess, his presence didn’t seem strange to me.
“You shouldn’t be here, Alera. What is it?”
“If I’m disturbing you—” I said, taken aback by his attitude, for he was closed off, unreadable, frustrating. Was he angry with me? He had forgiven me for my actions on the night of the revolt, hadn’t he? When I had been put to the ultimate test, I had confessed everything to him. And he, more than anyone else I knew, understood walking a dagger’s edge.
“What is it you need?” he asked once more.
My eyebrows drew together, but I forged ahead. “We can�
�t let them die. The High Priestess will execute Halias and the others if we don’t stop her. I can’t be responsible for that.”
Narian sighed, his blue eyes devoid of sympathy. “The only ones responsible for what happens now are those locked in the dungeon. The High Priestess’s regulations were clear about how this sort of behavior would be handled, and those regulations must be upheld.”
“This sort of behavior?” I repeated, shocked. “You remember what the Overlord did to Halias, to the people of this kingdom. Don’t you think mercy might make a stronger impression on these men, on my people, than more slaughter?”
“What do you expect me to do? This isn’t my decision. Do I want to execute them? No. But I see the sense in it. These matters have to be handled with your head, not your heart. I learned that much—”
“From your master?”
“Just trust me,” he said, words clipped.
Before I could argue further, there was a rapping on his door.
“Go,” he urged, shoving me toward his bedroom. “Stay in there, stay quiet and keep the door closed.”
Narian turned his back to me, and though I hid, I neglected his final instruction and left the door slightly ajar. As I peeked out, the parlor door opened, though he had not answered it, and the High Priestess entered, stepping past the Cokyrian shield maiden who had accompanied her. Nantilam nodded to the woman, who stepped into the corridor to wait, closing the door behind her.
Narian stood tensely with his hands behind his back, observing the leader of his homeland, who was also the closest resemblance to a parent he’d had during his childhood.
The High Priestess studied him, then said, “Relax, Narian. You look like you expect a rebuke when you’ve done well.”
I saw Narian’s hands tighten into fists, then release as he forced some of the rigidity from his body.
