Sacrifice

by Cayla Kluver

  In the aftermath of the men’s departure, Alantonya was standing alone in front of the window, staring out into the dark night. After a moment of debate over whom I should join, I walked over to her, wondering why she was keeping to herself.

  “Queen Alera,” she said, giving me a curtsey.

  While I wished my people would use the title of Grand Provost, I understood that those who addressed me as Queen did so as an indication of utmost respect and loyalty. I nodded an acknowledgment, feeling strangely conspiratorial standing in the shadows.

  “I must confess that you are worrying me, Baroness Alantonya. Are you unwell?”

  “In health, no. The state of my heart, however, is a different matter.”

  This was such an enigmatic reply that I dropped all formality.

  “Alantonya, if something is troubling you, please tell me.”

  I placed a hand on her arm, but she did not respond to my touch, simply staring once more out the window. I waited, not knowing how else to approach her.

  “You’re a good woman, Your Highness. You are honest, steadfast and fair. At one time, I might have been able to make the same claims for myself, but I can no longer do so. For months, years now, I have been lying to my husband, and I am damned to hell for it.”

  I reeled from this declaration, so outlandish coming from the sedate and polite Baroness.

  “I tell him I love him. I sleep beside him and act as a wife should. I raise our children to respect him when I do not. Cannot.”

  “Why is that?” I hoarsely whispered. A woman professing such things about her husband could be put to death under traditional Hytanican law.

  “You know the reason.” Her voice was sad, melancholy. “It’s because you will understand that I am confessing this to you. With anyone else, I would continue the farce. But I believe you love him, too.”

  “Narian?”

  “He is my son,” she stressed, her passion hitting me like a punch to the stomach. “I carried him inside of me, I gave birth to him. When I close my eyes, I can still feel the heartbeat of that beautiful baby, my firstborn. Koranis wishes he had never returned to us. He lives as though our son is dead. I would have Narian commit his worst crimes a hundred times over, and yet love him. That is the promise you make when you bring children into this world—that you will love them forever, come what may. And I cannot abide Koranis for breaking that promise.” She turned to me, a rare spark of anger in her eyes. “And he has the gall to poison the minds of our other children against the one I long to hold.”

  What was I to say? Could I risk agreeing with her? Alantonya had to stay with her husband, had to live out the years with him. The best course for her to take would be to bury her feelings and move on. But Narian, whether he was a part of her life or not, would always be in Hytanica, at my side, so close and yet out of her reach.

  “I’ve spoken to Narian,” I ventured, redirecting the discussion. “It does not concern him that Koranis has disowned him, for he has likewise rejected the Baron. But he still thinks of himself as your son. The only way he could be hurt now is if you renounced him.”

  Alantonya looked at me with the strangest expression, her blue eyes hopeful, but the rest of her face despondent.

  “Don’t tell him what I’ve said,” she whispered, clasping my hands. “Tell him only that I love him.”

  I stared at her, thoroughly confused, and she elaborated.

  “I cannot be his mother, Alera. Not until Koranis is in the ground, for I dare not disobey him.” She reached out and touched my cheek in a motherly gesture. “But you have given me the will to try to outlive my husband.”

  Her eyes glistened for a moment, then she smoothed her hair, unwilling to succumb to her emotions.

  “Let’s sit, shall we?” she invited, motioning toward the younger women.

  I nodded, and we went to join my sister and Semari, but Alantonya’s words haunted me for the rest of the evening.

  * * *

  My mood was pensive as we returned to the Bastion in our carriage an hour later, for conversations I’d had with my betrothed over the past few months had resurfaced in my memory. He had endured so much—a harsh childhood, betrayal, fear, loneliness, devastation, hatred. Now he would be denied the family he craved. But he had me, and he would have my family, once they understood—my mother and Miranna already did. If I loved him, they would at least accept him. And he loved me. I had always known it, but the words had actually come from his mouth, despite how difficult it was for him to voice his feelings.

  London was another man who had endured much. I couldn’t help but think that, under different circumstances, he and Narian would have forged a friendship. But London was gone, presumably hiding somewhere in the mountains. Narian had suspected me of knowing my bodyguard’s whereabouts, and though knowing would have required me to speak on the matter, I suddenly wanted assurance that he was all right. I feared for his well-being. I feared I would never see him again.

  “Temerson,” I blurted, for he had been one of the people in the dungeon on the night of the failed rebellion. Perhaps in the aftermath he knew what had become of the deputy captain.

  He looked at me, brown eyes curious.

  “I wondered if…I hoped you might have some information about London. I—I don’t need to know where he is, just that he is safe.”

  “To the best of my knowledge, London fled following the failed attempt to retake our kingdom,” he replied, although I was certain he knew more. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard a whisper from or about him since.”

  I accepted this grudgingly. London had become my bodyguard when I was just over a year old. If I knew anything about him, it was that he did not run away.

  Upon our arrival at the Bastion, I retired to my quarters to prepare for bed, thoughts of London continuing to plague me. Narian had not yet returned from Cokyri, and while I hoped the delay was due to his efforts to have Rava dismissed—perhaps he and the High Priestess were selecting a new second-in-command—I was left with no one to share my frustrations. Before Narian had come into my life, London had been a long-time confidant of mine, listening to my problems, soothing my worries and offering sage advice. But tonight, I had to simmer in silence over Koranis’s attitude toward Narian and the ongoing headaches Rava caused me. I was beginning to feel like I was stuck in the mud, working hard but making little progress. And if I felt that way, it was likely the rest of Hytanica did, as well. I needed fresh hope, a bright light on the horizon. Both my people and I needed something about which to be excited.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:

  THE RACE

  SHASELLE

  I did chores for my mother until earlY afternoon, on edge the entire time. I received several bemused looks from my family members, although I had no inkling of the reason, but nobody scolded me. Eventually, my mother laughed and threw up her hands.

  “Shaselle, just go! You’re making me nervous, bouncing all over the place!”

  I grinned and dropped my sewing to run from the room, flying up the stairs. I wasn’t meeting Saadi for a couple more hours, but I could hardly contain my excitement. Not only would I be seeing him, but I would be riding a horse for the first time in months.

  Feeling I had permission to do what I pleased, I changed out of my skirt and put on a pair of dark brown breeches, tucking a cream-colored shirt into the waistband. Then a flash of common sense struck, and I picked up the skirt, pulling it over my trousers. I had no de
sire to draw questions, and what my mother didn’t know couldn’t create a problem for me.

  Fully dressed, I stared at myself in the mirror, at my hazel eyes, my long, heavy brown hair, the lips that weren’t terribly thin but weren’t thick enough to be perfect. I was built like my mother, a bit stocky, although I was muscled and athletic—which admittedly girls were not expected to be. I sighed, trying to be objective about myself. I wasn’t pretty, but neither was I ugly, just rather plain. But in the end, my appearance wouldn’t matter. I had status enough to attract a good Hytanican man. Still, I hated the fact that beautiful was not a word Saadi would use to describe me.

  I tied my hair in a braid, wrapped it around itself and pinned it at the back of my head. Today was about having fun, not romance. And I didn’t need Saadi to see me as a beauty. I didn’t need him at all. I picked up my cloak and glanced around the room, for there was a nagging in the back of my brain that told me I was forgetting something. When nothing jarred my memory, I left my room and bounded down the stairs in an unladylike fashion. Reaching the first floor, I headed to the front door, hoping no one would be paying any mind to me, but Mother called my name.

  “Shaselle? Where are you going?”

  “Just out for a walk,” I said brightly, praying she wouldn’t stop me.

  “Dinner will be served in three hours. Be back in an hour and a half.”

  Though I hadn’t a clue why she was being so accommodating, I darted out into the brisk, late-September air, knowing I wouldn’t make her deadline. Better to seek forgiveness later, especially when she’d never let me leave if she knew what I was going to do. The barn door was open, and I entered, supposing I would find Steldor and Celdrid inside. My cousin had come earlier in the day to spend time with my brother, and with every one of his visits, Celdrid’s spirits improved.

  “How’s your back?” I asked Steldor, deeply inhaling the sweet-smelling hay and, for once, not despising Briar’s empty stall. I would be winning back one of my father’s stolen horses today.

  He glanced up from a saddle he and Celdrid had been examining and ran a hand through his dark hair.

  “It looks like I got into a fight with a wildcat, but the pain is gone.”

  “I believe it was a she-cat,” I teased, and he cracked a smile. I walked up to the saddle and ran a hand over it, not recognizing it. “And what’s this?”

  “It’s mine!” Celdrid exclaimed, practically hopping from foot to foot. “Steldor brought it for me. He made it for me.”

  “Did you really?” I asked our cousin, leaning closer to admire the saddle’s fine leatherwork, its handsome shape and style. It was the ideal size for my brother, and its deep reddish-gold color would be handsome with his mount.

  Steldor shrugged in response. “I’ve had time on my hands.”

  “Time put to good use. It’s gorgeous.” Turning to my brother, I asked, “And when do you plan to try this out, young man?”

  He hadn’t ridden since Papa’s death—he’d been avoiding every reminder of our father. We all wanted Celdrid to embrace his memories and not be afraid of them, but it would take time.

  Instead of answering, Celdrid looked expectantly at Steldor.

  “Not enough time now.” Our cousin laughed. “You need to get cleaned up for dinner before long. But I’ll meet you here tomorrow, and we’ll go riding then. What do you say?”

  Again, Celdrid’s face lit up, and he nodded vigorously. I smiled just as brightly, happy for him and secretly relieved that they had not decided to ride today—I didn’t want to consider what would happen if Saadi and I ran into them.

  “Is there a reason you’re bothering us, Shaselle?” Steldor teased.

  “No. I was just going out for a walk.”

  His brow furrowed. “If you need to run an errand, I could go with you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, bemused by his protectiveness.

  For the second time he shrugged, then he waved me out of the barn, returning his attention to Celdrid and the saddle.

  Leaving them behind, I walked to the Market District, feeling more like a bundle of nerves than a person. The city was busy, a sign of the improving economy, although it would quiet over the next couple of hours as merchants closed up shop for the day. The afternoon sun was finally breaking through the cloud cover, but I just wanted it to drop lower. Saadi and I had agreed to race at dusk, wanting to limit the number of potential witnesses.

  I strolled north, in the direction of the military base from whence Saadi would come, then stepped into an alley to abandon my skirt, the shake in my hands making it difficult to unlace. I took a few deep breaths, trying to quell the jitters. This was a race I could win, would win. Then Saadi would give me my father’s horse. That was all I wanted.

  I hastened onto the thoroughfare, spotting Saadi by his distinctive gait. It was easy, yet confident. I blushed, feeling silly for admiring him from afar, but I couldn’t make myself stop. He was tall, he was strong and those damn freckles constantly got the best of me. He picked up his pace, walking straight toward me, having seen me, as well.

  “I’ve learned it’s best to approach you from the front, for the sake of my well-being,” he quipped upon reaching me.

  “For the sake of your dignity, perhaps you should also forfeit the race,” I suggested, and he chuckled, falling into step with me.

  “Shaselle, I wouldn’t be so arrogant if I were you. I may be a mere man, but I am not without skills.”

  “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  I was enjoying our banter, feeling strangely giddy. I was happy, an emotion I had never again expected to experience. This was good, and right—and wrong. What would my mother, my uncle, Steldor, Galen and the rest of my family think if they knew with whom I was spending time? But that wasn’t important now. I had a mission.

  We went toward the military base, my anxiety ratcheting up the closer to our destination we came. The Cokyrians now controlled this area, and no Hytanicans were allowed to enter; but Saadi ignored the odd looks of the guards, who did not question him, confirming my suspicions about his status. He took me to the stables that my father had once controlled, and where I had unsuccessfully attempted my prank, and we walked up and down the line of stalls.

  “Is this the one then?” Saadi asked, when I stopped to give Briar a pat.

  I shook my head. While I would have loved to reclaim the mare, she was young and refined, without the power and stamina required for racing.

  “My father’s stallion—the black-and-white. That’s the horse I want to ride.”

  I heard his low whistle from behind me. “That’s a mighty spirited animal. Are you sure you can handle that much horse?”

  “If I can’t, you’ll have an easy victory,” I retorted, turning to face him.

  Saadi considered me, one eyebrow raised, no doubt trying to assess my riding ability, not because I was a woman, but because I was a Hytanican woman. Then he stepped past me, motioning for me to follow.

  “To the stallion barn,” he said. His tone was patronizing, but I didn’t care. I would have my father’s prized stallion back.

  Saadi’s horse was a gelding, and we shared a laugh at the problems we might have had if he’d happened to pick a mare. The animal was strong and long-legged, good for distance running, but Saadi had no idea what my father’s King could do.

  I pulled the hood of my cloak up over my head as we rode together through the city, hoping I would pass for a Cokyrian.
No Hytanicans wanted to look too closely at the enemy; it was not good to attract their notice. We were stopped at the gates, to be quickly permitted passage, for every Cokyrian apparently knew Saadi. I felt slightly guilty, for there was a long line of Hytanicans, some trying to enter, others to depart, who could not bypass the rigorous security check that had been initiated under the High Priestess’s regulations.

  We continued to hold our mounts to a walk, the stone thoroughfare turning into a dirt highway that would lead us south to the only bridge that spanned the Recorah River. I was eager to begin the race, but understood the need to put a little more distance between us and the city before we did so.

  This was the first time I had been outside the city’s walls since the Cokyrian takeover, and I gazed ahead at the odd patchwork our lands had become. Some areas were alive with crops that had been sown by Hytanican villagers and were almost ready for the harvest; other parcels lay scorched and barren; still others were struggling to support life, weeds and an occasional wildflower rising above the ash. It was all so still—no field hands were about in the evening, nor were the Cokyrian guards who oversaw the planting. And given the paucity of trees, little birdsong could be heard. Eventually, my eyes were drawn to the looming shape of the Cokyrian Wall to the west, and sadness and grief assailed me. That wood and stone barrier, designed to keep us in, was a wrenching reminder of our fallen status.

  Saadi, following my gaze, sought to distract me.

  “To the river?” he suggested, pointing ahead down the road.

  The Recorah River, which flowed south out of the Niñeyre Mountains before curving to the west, marked both our eastern and southern borders, and was the reason construction of the wall was necessitated only along the boundary we shared with the Kingdom of Sarterad.