by Cayla Kluver
“What the bloody—” he exclaimed when he saw me, then he gestured toward the back door. “Was that you making all that racket, you Cokyrian bitch?”
Given my attire, I could understand his mistake.
“I—I’m not Cokyrian,” I stammered, too afraid to move, hoping the burly, hairy man wouldn’t kill me here and now. “And—and I’m sorry. I mean, I shouldn’t have…”
He didn’t seem to hear.
“Thought you’d steal from me, did you?” he snarled, taking large, heavy steps toward me. “You’ve taken this kingdom, my son, my whole life from me, and you still haven’t had your fill?”
“Did you hear? I’m not Cokyrian!” I was shouting, but he ignored my words. Picking up a meat tenderizer from the counter, he continued to approach me, pace steady and menacing.
There would be no escaping in the manner I had entered—I couldn’t climb fast enough. Taking my chances, I darted for the back door, praying I would be able to unlock it. Just as I reached it, the butcher’s beefy, sweaty hand closed around my upper arm, and I cried out.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please let me go, please!”
“I’ll let you go once I’m good and done with you.”
I tried to scream, but he pushed his mouth against mine, forcing my lips apart. I struggled desperately, vainly, but he grabbed a handful of my hair and made me look at him.
“It’s because of you my wife is dead. Your fires took our house. And my son died in the fighting!”
His scent, the scent of blood and flies and perspiration, was overwhelming, and I gagged as his hold on my hair tightened.
“Let me go!” I cried, kicking at him, but he grabbed my leg.
“Stop fighting, whore,” he growled. “I’m going to show you a woman’s place.”
He had set the meat tenderizer on a stack of boxes beside the door against which he was shoving me, and I reached for it. Catching my movement, he snatched my hand, putting it together with my other and pinning them both above my head.
“I’m…the captain’s…niece!” I screamed in one final attempt to bring him to his right mind, then I brought my knee up hard, connecting with his groin.
He released me, hunching over. Taking advantage of the moment, I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the tenderizer and swung it at his head. The crack was satisfying, and he lurched away from me, not hit hard enough to be knocked unconscious. I turned and flipped the latch on the door, then pulled hard on the handle, stumbling over the threshold into the fresh air. I would have fallen in the dirt for the second time that day except that someone standing outside caught me. Terrified that my escape was being thwarted, I struck out at whoever it was, feeling a sharp pain when my fist connected with the person’s jaw.
“Empress, you hit hard!” a male voice exclaimed, then he captured my arms and trapped them behind my back. By the strange expletive he had used, I knew him to be Cokyrian—my luck was golden. “What’s going on here?”
The butcher staggered into the doorway, squinting in the sunlight.
“Your girl’s a thief,” he muttered at sight of the man who held me, sparing a glower for me as though warning me to be quiet. I ground my teeth and looked away, intending to do just that.
Now that I had stopped struggling, the Cokyrian soldier released me, and I considered whether or not to run. Then I saw who had been restraining me—Saadi, the man with whom Narian and my uncle had dealt after my failed prank. There would be no point in running if he remembered who I was.
“My girl?” Saadi repeated, his pale blue eyes calculating. “She is no Cokyrian. Besides, I would expect you to show any comrade of mine more respect than that.”
“My apologies,” the butcher forced himself to say, and rage filled me at his newly respectful attitude. “She broke into my store and I assumed from her clothing… I also assume you’ll see her punished for her crime.”
“You were about to punish her yourself, weren’t you?”
Saadi scrutinized me, noting the red marks around my wrists and perhaps the beginnings of the bruises I would have across my mouth.
“In Cokyri, you would be killed for what you did to her—what you tried to do.”
“It’s good we’re not in Cokyri then,” the butcher sneered.
Saadi’s jaw clenched, and he seemed to be fighting a deep urge to pummel the merchant who stood before him.
“I should take you to join the men at the gallows.”
“I would welcome it.”
“I can see why,” Saadi coldly retorted, with a subtle look up and down at the heavyset man. “But I’m afraid the lack of your business might dampen the economy in the province, and that is something my sister would frown upon. She’ll be disappointed, though—she does so enjoy seeing men like you hang.”
“And I enjoy seeing women in skirts as God intended.”
Another strained moment passed, then Saadi laughed. “Perhaps if your God had paid less attention to clothing and more to abilities, you and your kind wouldn’t be in this position right now.”
The butcher shifted uncomfortably, and Saadi quickly dispensed with him. “If you want me to arrest her for thievery, I’ll also arrest you for assault. So I would advise that you go back to your meat and your customers, may they be few.”
The man did not need to be told twice. He slammed the door in our faces, and I could hear the lock click into place. It was then that I noticed the canvas bag at Saadi’s feet. He must have seen flight in my eyes, for he started running at almost the same moment I did. He caught me before I passed the next shop, snatching my upper arm just as the butcher had. I cried out, hoping he would think me in pain and let me go, but he did not, cocking an eyebrow and strengthening his grip.
“I take it you’re responsible for this?” he said, hauling the bag of fruit, which he had slung over his shoulder, up to eye level with his other hand.
I kept my mouth shut.
“Despite the fact that you’re breaking the law, you’re lucky. The evidence you left at your previous site of conquest sent me on a search for you.”
“Lucky, because you did a lot of saving,” I scoffed.
Releasing me, he smoothed his bronze hair forward, but it stuck up at the center of his hairline, which I suspected was the opposite of his intention.
“I was getting there.”
He was mumbling, disagreeable, an attitude I did not expect. Why was he bothering to make conversation with a Hytanican criminal? And why did he keep smoothing that stupid hair of his?
“I haven’t done anything,” I said, inching backward in preparation for my grand escape, the details of which I was sure would come to me at any moment. Motioning to the bag, I lied again. “That’s not mine.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“But it is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You know, the more you deny it, the more likely I am to arrest you.”
I stared wide-eyed at him. “You weren’t planning to?”
“No, it doesn’t look like you’ve caused any real harm—a couple of coins in payment for the broken lock should resolve the problem. I have a feeling if I arrested you, you wouldn’t make it out this time, not with what your uncle and cousin are guilty of.”
“Bravery?”
“Corza spends an hour terrifying you and I get a confession after a few minutes.”
Shocked and annoyed, I exclaimed, “I didn’t confess
anything!”
Saadi smirked. “Nothing I’m going to share. Women and men shouldn’t be killed for bravery.”
“I suppose you condone the pranks and riots then?” I challenged. He was unbelievable—making things up to manipulate me.
“I don’t condone them,” he said more seriously. “I have a different idea of what bravery is.”
“What—complaisance?”
“In a sense. Acceptance, resiliency. How strong must one be to throw a temper tantrum?”
“Is that what you’d call this? You and your people storm our homeland, take us all prisoner and any form of resistance is a temper tantrum in your eyes?”
He pondered this for a moment, his freckled nose crinkling. “Yes.”
I threw up my hands, not sure exactly what was going on or why I was still here with my enemy, but not willing to let this go.
“How do you justify that?”
“Well, for a century, our takeover of your kingdom has been inevitable. You should have acclimated yourselves to the idea by now.”
“You’re right. This is our fault, really. We’ve never been superb at preparation here in Hytanica.”
Saadi shrugged, and I thought for one stunned moment that he had taken my statements to be sincere. Then his expression changed, and he looked at me with what appeared to be sympathy, perhaps even regret.
“I do understand it, Shaselle. Being second tier, overrun, overlooked. Not having influence.”
It disturbed me that he not only remembered my relation to Cannan and Steldor, but also my name. Yet I did not flee.
“You have to take what you’re handed and make what you can of it,” he finished. “That’s the sorry truth.”
“I plan to make them pay,” I snarled, hating his words and how similar they were to the message Queen Alera had been trying to send for weeks.
“Them? What about me?”
“Stop it!” I stamped my foot, not even sure what was upsetting me. “You killed my father!”
“And you want revenge. Naturally. Just like the butcher in there. But the problem is, Shaselle, revenge isn’t a very satisfying goal. It eats away at you, destroys you from the inside out. You end up bitter and empty just like that butcher. And that’s not a pretty sight.”
“What is wrong with you? You think you know everything about me! You don’t. Stay out of my way and out of my business.”
I spun on my heel and began to stride away, but he called me back.
“Don’t you want this?”
I turned to see that he was still holding my canvas bag filled with fruit. I breathed in and out heavily, my stomach complaining, my pride aching just as much.
“So far, it’s been you who’s getting in my way.” He chuckled. “If you don’t like it, let that uncle of yours catch up with you.”
I warily returned to him to reclaim my bag, but he held it away from me for a moment longer.
“There is the matter of the damages for the door,” he said, and my heart sank, for lack of money was what had gotten me into this mess in the first place. But before I could speak, he added, “I’ll cover the cost for now. But you’ll owe me.”
Annoyed that I would be in his debt, I snatched my bag from his hand, then sprinted in the other direction, his laughter nipping at my heels.
* * *
I survived the rest of that day on fruit and a sip or two of wine. As I wandered the city streets, dodging Cokyrian soldiers who cast dubious glances at any Hytanican who seemed out of place, I realized with a sinking heart that living like this was really not feasible. Should I resign myself to going home? Or try to find work? I knew how to take care of horses, muck their stalls—I even knew how to break them. But I doubted any Hytanican would hire a girl to be a stable hand, and there wasn’t the slightest chance I’d consider working for the Cokyrians.
I grimaced, knowing that my best option aside from giving up on independence was to offer my sewing skills to one of the tailors in the city, one who didn’t know me and therefore wouldn’t return me to my family. The dressmakers couldn’t afford to pay much wage, but they wouldn’t turn me away, and though I hated the chore, my mother had taught me well. Shivering but thankful I at least had a plan, I curled up in the corner of the church ruins that provided the most shelter, snugged my cloak about my body and went to sleep, using a balled-up pair of breeches for a pillow.
I woke with the sunrise and tucked my canvas bag in a crevice among some fallen stones, hoping no one would find it, and grabbed the last apple for breakfast. Then I hiked through the city, noticing a distinct lack of activity in the southern district, where Steldor usually oversaw construction. There was always something odd in this kingdom.
It was when I turned north along the thoroughfare that I saw why the streets felt dead—everyone was congregating yet again. If there was one thing the people of Hytanica were eager to do, it was assemble. This time, the people were streaming en masse toward the palace, but my height and my distance from the point of interest made it impossible for me to determine the reason. Frustrated, I worked my way to the edge of the thoroughfare and climbed atop a rain barrel in order to gain a better vantage point.
Atop the palace, on the foremost center of the roof, a broad blue-and-gold Hytanican flag waved boldly in the wind, the silk refracting the sunlight like some divine beacon of strength. Beside it stood the man who had planted it, his hand upon its staff, but I was too far away to see his face. I dropped to the ground and fought through the crowd, jostled and shoved about, but perfectly willing to shove back.
“Steldor,” I heard those around me excitedly proclaiming. “King Steldor!”
My blood pounded when I squirmed through to the courtyard gates, able at last to determine the identity of the man on the roof. My cousin stood by the banner he held, magnificent and defiant and brave.
People were now emerging from the palace to see what was causing the commotion—the Queen, the Cokyrian commander, the female officer who had stolen my father’s horses and my uncle. I darted to the side, out of Cannan’s line of vision, and they came to a stop opposite me. The captain stiffened and I distinctly heard him breathe, “Goddamn it, Steldor,” when he recognized his daring and independent son, his son who obeyed no one. Queen Alera put a hand over her mouth, the bronze-haired officer tensed and curled her lip and Narian’s countenance hardened—despite the aid he had given me, I doubted he had a heart inside him at all.
Cokyrians milled now that their superiors had arrived, but Steldor was unmoving, unrelenting, unapologetic—proud to be found guilty of this crime after the executions of the previous morn. This was in memoriam of those who had been killed trying to reclaim our kingdom, and I knew this idea had been Steldor’s alone, for Galen was not with him.
Someone brushed past me to reach the palace gates, a few others following in his wake, and I recognized Saadi as he and his comrades were permitted entrance to the courtyard.
“You took your time,” the female Cokyrian officer said to him. “Did you oversleep, boy?”
“Orders, Rava,” Saadi testily reminded her, and blood ran to my face at the resemblance between the two of them. This was the sister to whom he kept referring. I forced my eyes back to Steldor, not understanding why I felt so angry and embarrassed over what I had just learned.
“Get him down,” Rava snarled. “Arrest him and take that flag to my office. Then I—Narian and I—will decide what to do with him.”
Glares we
re exchanged between the Cokyrian commander and the petite woman I could only assume was his second, but unlike in my case, Narian did not speak up to override her directives. Was he truly going to let her decide how my cousin would be punished?
Saadi went forward while others hurried to fetch ladders and ropes. As the enemy soldiers climbed up to him, Steldor called out to his people.
“Remember this flag!” he shouted, pounding the staff against the roof. “Remember all who have died for it—don’t let them have died in vain. This is our kingdom!”
Shouts went up from the Hytanican crowd, and they began to chant my cousin’s name.
“Steldor the King! Steldor the King! Steldor the King!”
The Cokyrians reached him and he put up his hands, allowing them to shackle him without a fight. If anything, the voice of the people grew louder.
I beamed, proud of my relation to him, at least until I noticed Cannan’s posture. He was rigid, motionless, but it wasn’t anger I detected in his stance—he was afraid.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
INSOLENCE
ALERA
The High Priestess had left Hytanica the afternoon of execution day, and as Steldor was brought to us by an arguable legion of Cokyrian soldiers, hands cuffed behind his back, I was thankful for that fact. Despite what Nantilam had promised Narian about trusting his judgment, I believed Steldor’s actions would have enraged her beyond the point of reason.
“Steldor the King! Steldor the King!”
The people on the opposite side of the gates continued to chant, their admiration for my former husband jarringly apparent. Steldor did not acknowledge them, staring instead at me in a challenge to my attitude of cooperation.
Narian motioned us forward, and our party reentered the Bastion to stand in the Grand Entry Hall, Steldor and his captors in tow.
“Saadi.” Rava prompted the man who was holding the rolled-up Hytanican flag, and he went into her office to store it, for no reason apparent to me. Looking at Steldor, she issued further orders. “Take him to the dungeon and await my word.”
