by Cayla Kluver
“What business have you in the Bastion?” my betrothed demanded.
“Business that is not yours, Cokyrian,” Steldor spat.
Narian glowered at the former King. “Much as you might detest the thought, Steldor, I am no longer your enemy.”
“These scars on my back argue differently.”
“I was merciful in leaving you alive. You asked for execution and I ordered a lashing. If not for your ridiculous pride, you’d acknowledge that.”
Steldor laughed mirthlessly. “I owe you nothing after all you’ve taken from me.”
“Alera is not a possession,” Narian astutely shot back.
“Alera hadn’t entered my mind.” The curl in Steldor’s lip revealed the lie, and the hostility he exuded would have made most men run in the other direction. But Narian wasn’t most men.
“And yet I see you around this Bastion, her home, more than any soldier or son need be. You yearn for any chance glimpse of her.”
“I come to the palace on business, you mongrel pup.”
“Then pray tell, what business is that?”
I stood miserably by, for it was apparent neither of them was aware of my presence. Still, the argument had come full circle, and I prayed it would soon be over.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Steldor seethed. “You are not my superior.” His dark eyes glinted malevolently, a look he had once or twice directed at me during our unfortunate marriage.
“True enough. But you are nonetheless one of my subjects.”
Steldor’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, telling me how close he was to unleashing his hellish temper. Before I could intervene, he threw a right cross at Narian’s chin, which the commander adroitly dodged, stepping back and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I suggest you walk away, Steldor,” he said, unnervingly calm.
“I did so once,” my former husband retorted. “I don’t intend to do so again.”
Narian perused his opponent, judging his strengths and weaknesses, then struck Steldor in the middle of his chest with the heel of his palm, sending him staggering backward. In a flash, a dagger appeared in Steldor’s hand, and panic seized me. Would they spill each other’s blood right here, right now?
“Stop!” I cried. “Both of you!”
They straightened warily at the sound of my voice, and I hurried to stand between them, so distraught my hands were shaking.
“I don’t know what this is about,” I beseeched, hoping Cannan would hear and lend assistance. “But please, for my sake, leave things be.”
They glared at each other over the top of my head, then Steldor moved away, his eyes on Narian until he could place a hand on the door leading into the Grand Entry.
“Queen Alera,” he pointedly acknowledged me. “I humbly honor your request.”
With a disdainful smirk for Narian, he tossed the knife onto the floor, then exited, pulling the door firmly closed behind him. Narian crossed to snatch up the weapon, examining it carefully before showing it to me.
“Do you plan to tell me that you recognize this blade?” he asked, and I stared at him, dumbfounded. With a stiff nod, he strode through the same door Steldor had used, leaving me alone.
I hesitated, hoping he would return, but knowing he would not. Then I proceeded to my study, wondering how long it would take before he would seek me out. He was annoyed with Steldor, annoyed with himself and annoyed with me over Shaselle’s dagger, but he also had a busy schedule. I was left with no choice but to wait for him to come back.
Though I had fallen in love with Narian a long time ago, I was continually learning more about him. I’d always been familiar with his principles and his personality, but it was the little things that made a human being. Little things like how he was not accustomed to sharing his space—had I not been forced to hide in his bedroom during his exchange with the High Priestess, I would not yet have seen it. There were other things, as well. He was nearly fluent in three languages in addition to our own; he absolutely could not sleep on his back; and he didn’t know how to handle being irritated with me.
Had I lied for Shaselle? Yes. But he would have a difficult time confronting me about it. He never hesitated in handling issues with other people, but with me, he seemed to try his hardest to convince himself that there was nothing to handle.
It was late afternoon before he finally raised the matter. After holding audiences in the Hearing Hall, I had entered my office and was about ready to retire when there was a knock on the door. I knew it would be Narian, and that his countenance would be inscrutable. Indeed, when I granted him permission to enter, he was closed off, exactly as I hated him to be.
“I thought you would meet me in my quarters,” I said, attempting to keep things light.
“I will. But I need to talk to you first.” It was plain from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t about to mix business with pleasure.
“Of course.” I rose from my desk chair, straightening a few papers and avoiding eye contact with him, though I wasn’t sure of the reason.
“The knife I took from Shaselle didn’t belong to Baelic.”
“Oh?” I looked up to meet his disconcerting eyes. If he wouldn’t let me in, I wouldn’t let him in.
“Alera, it was Sarteradan. You lied for her. Why?”
“And what of Steldor’s dagger?” I asked, ignoring his inquiry.
“Hytanican. No doubt he managed to keep one of his own from my troops.”
“What were you and he arguing about?”
“That’s of no importance. But you needn’t worry—I’m not going to arrest him.” He scrutinized me, and I squirmed like a bug under a magnifying glass. “What is important, Alera, is the question you’re trying to avoid—why did you lie for Shaselle?”
I sighed, stepping around my desk. “She’s a hurt and confused young woman.”
“A hurt and confused young woman who got her hands on a weapon someone in her family planted. I needed to know where it was hidden.”
I frowned, drawing significance from his use of the word I in place of we.
“How do you know Baelic didn’t own a Sarteradan blade? How do you know this wasn’t innocent? Are you so determined to suspect these men whose comrades you killed?”
“What did you say?” His tone was chilled.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, appalled at my word choice. “That just…came out wrong. I know you saved the lives you could.”
Narian’s gaze was sharp, and my heart thudded as I prayed he would believe me. I spoke the truth—he was not a murderer.
“Do you know where the dagger came from, Alera?” he finally asked, ice hanging off his words. He sounded so accusatory that I bristled.
“Of course not.”
“Do you know where London is?”
“No!” I exclaimed, in awe of the fact that he was interrogating me. “Narian, what is wrong with you? If I were aware of anything that might threaten our goals, I would tell you. If I knew London to be up to something, I wouldn’t keep it a secret. But I’m happy to believe he’s free and safe. Lord only knows he’s suffered enough at Cokyrian hands. And I lied for Shaselle because, no matter how she came across that weapon, none of those men would have armed her, and you know it.”
He broke eye contact, stunned into silence, and his visage softened.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have accused you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,”
I murmured, walking over to him. I swept his hair away from his face, and he closed his eyes at my touch. “Just hold me.”
He obliged, wrapping me in his arms and his love, and I wished all disagreements could be so quickly forgotten.
* * *
Word came to the Bastion the following morning that, aside from a little cleanup, the five-month-long reconstruction effort that had been underway within the city was complete. For once, happiness was in the air. The time made by the work crews had been phenomenal—at least the Hytanicans and the Cokyrians had been able to cooperate with each other in some capacity.
In celebration, I decided to take the day and tour the city, wanting to see for myself that it had been returned to its former glory. The news was also a form of vindication for me, an affirmation that the path I had chosen for our people was the right one, after all. And if I was honest with myself, I needed to see what had been done with the churches, unwilling to blindly accept Steldor’s version of the facts. Perhaps some of the churches had been reconstructed for a different purpose, but surely not all of them.
After discussing my plans with Cannan, I decided to invite my mother to accompany me. With her benevolent soul and her tender, graceful smile, there was not a member of the populace who had not fallen in love with her when she had married my father all those years ago. Her presence would further boost spirits, and her support would be a tremendous aid in changing attitudes about our circumstances once and for all.
I sought her out in the third-floor quarters she shared with my father. She was sitting on the sofa in her parlor when I entered, doing some handwork, and I was reminded of the embroidered handkerchiefs my sister and I used to award as part of the annual Harvest Festival. We would stitch a design of our choosing and present our handkerchiefs to the young men we desired as our escorts for the pretournament dinner. The festival, with its week-long faire and tournament, would attract vendors and contestants from throughout the Recorah River Valley and for miles beyond. Those days seemed so far away now, so innocent. Nothing was that simple anymore.
“Alera, what a pleasant surprise,” my mother greeted me in her lyrical voice, sweeping her honey-blond hair over her shoulders. “It’s been too long since we’ve talked. Please, come and sit.”
Though my father could often be seen around the Bastion, my mother tended to keep to herself, with the exception of visits with Miranna and attendance at family dinners. In part because of this and in part due to my schedule as Grand Provost, she and I managed little private time together. I complied with her request, for I was in no great rush, sitting in an armchair opposite the sofa.
“Have you heard the good news?” I asked at once.
“What news is that?”
I was grinning, my cheeks flushed. “The hard work is finished and the city is standing again. Word came just an hour ago.”
“Already? That is wonderful news. And it couldn’t have come at a better time—there has been too much pain and death of late. I suppose you’ll be going on a tour?”
Ever a teacher to her daughters, this was more a suggestion than a question, in case I’d overlooked the importance of sharing this time with our people. To win their hearts, I needed to be a part of their lives in times of joy, not just sorrow.
“Yes. That’s the reason I’m here, actually. I was hoping you would join me.”
Her face brightened, and she lay her stitching on a side table. “I would be delighted. When do you wish to depart?”
“I’ve freed my schedule for the rest of the day, so we can leave as soon as it suits you.”
“I’ll only need to change clothes—something more celebratory would be appropriate.”
Another reminder, although this one was much needed. My attire was suitable for my daily duties, but not ideal for a public appearance.
After agreeing to meet in an hour’s time, I returned to my quarters, then sent for Sahdienne. Too exhilarated to wait for her, I entered my bedroom and threw wide my wardrobe, hunting for a gown to suit the occasion. I hesitated before coming to a decision, my hand clutched around the fabric of the garment I was considering. It was my most beautiful gown—the one Steldor had given me for my sister’s seventeenth birthday party. In cream-and-gold fabric that matched my gold-and-pearl tiara, it was striking, with bell sleeves and a daringly cut neckline. It was the obvious choice—just as Steldor had been to be King.
Sahdienne arrived at that moment, pulling me from my muddled memories. She had always loved the particular gown I’d chosen and had been enamored with my husband’s extraordinary taste. Now she eagerly assisted with my preparations, draping the beautiful gold-and-pearl necklace Steldor had given me to wear with the dress around my neck and styling my hair into an elegant roll at the back before fixing my tiara in place. With a quick curtsey, she departed and I walked into the parlor where my mother was waiting for me. I had not been informed of her arrival and immediately began to apologize.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but…” I hesitated, for she was studying me with the strangest light in her blue eyes, and I wondered if I were overdressed. “Should I—? I mean, I can change into something else.”
“No,” she said, approaching me to smooth my dark hair. “You’re perfect, dear. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman.”
I blushed, slightly embarrassed, but she candidly continued.
“Since you and Steldor parted ways, I’ve often wondered if you’re lonely. No person has a whole heart until they find their match.”
Though I had missed her often philosophical musings, her insights occasionally left me speechless. This was one of those times. In her own way, she was asking if I had another man in my life. Hytanica was changing, but not so drastically that the fundamental expectations for a member of the royal family would be altered. I would still be expected to bear an heir, although at nineteen, I was hardly running out of time.
I looked into my mother’s compassionate eyes and suddenly wanted to tell her everything, wanted to share the love I had found with Narian and the joy I felt at our betrothal. But he and I had agreed not to tell anyone of that event and, though I knew she wanted me to be happy, I wasn’t entirely certain how she would react to the news.
“What is it, darling?” she asked, seeing something of my internal conflict on my face.
Her voice was so gentle that my reservations fell away. She was my mother; I could trust her in all things.
“I’m not lonely,” I divulged, excitement tickling my stomach. I had been forced for weeks to hide one of the most significant moments of my life, and only now did I realize how much I wanted to tell someone. “I’m…I’m betrothed.”
Her eyes widened, then she took my hand and led me to the sofa to sit down beside her. In Hytanica, where arranged marriages were the norm, a young woman’s parents often knew before she did that she was to be betrothed. This order of events was highly unusual.
“Whomever are you promised to, Alera? Tell me everything.”
“Commander Narian.” I held my breath, not knowing what she would do or say, watching her expression shift from astonishment to bewilderment to concern.
“You are in love with him?” she inquired, but it was too late to take my confession back.
“Yes, I am. And he is in love with me.”
A few moments passed, then a gracious smile lit her face. Leaning toward me, she lightly placed her palms upon my cheeks.
“Congratulations, Alera.”
Now it was my turn to be dumbfounded. “You’re not upset?”
“How could I be upset that you’re in love?” She very nearly laughed. “When I married your father, I was afraid. I know now that he is a good man, but that experience was never one I wanted for you. I don’t know Narian, but I’ve come to realize he was never truly the enemy. He was in an impossible position, and yet he struggled to save as many lives as he could. But, more important, I know and trust you, Alera. If you love him, then I will love him, too.”
I hugged her, then we both laughed at our emotional states, for my throat felt tight and her eyes were glistening with tears. We talked a bit longer, and she promised to keep my confidence, then we proceeded to the Grand Entry Hall where our escorts awaited us, courtesy of Cannan. What I did not anticipate, however, was that Narian would be there.
“Grand Provost,” he said, offering a slight bow as he greeted us. “Lady Elissia.”
I caught my mother’s amused smile at the formality with which he addressed me. Narian also noticed, and a minute crinkle appeared in his brow.
“I thought I would accompany you into the city, with your permission, of course,” he continued, addressing me. “To gain favor.”
His words were so carefully chosen that I knew he was not speaking only of the people’s favor.
“I would be pleased to have you join us,” I replied, matching his manner, and our entourage departed.
The city was far from pristine—the streets were still dirty and despite the construction of several shelters, many people remained homeless, huddled into deserted buildings where they had been herded by Cokyrian soldiers. I suspected some of the churches were being used for this purpose, but was dismayed to see only one or two spires rising skyward. And work still needed to be done in the villages, for the Cokyrian priority in the countryside was to complete the Province Wall before winter. While farmhands worked the fields, they were under guard by Cokyrian soldiers, a constant reminder that they no longer had control over their own livelihoods. But still, shops in the Market District had reopened, the schools were ready for an influx of students following the harvest and there were fewer altercations between Hytanicans and Cokyrians.
