by Cayla Kluver
Sure enough, Steldor and Galen were making a show of themselves, bantering back and forth as they flirted with the young women that surrounded them. Steldor was paying more attention to the ladies than Galen, of course, who would occasionally raise the hand that held his betrothal band to fend them off.
I nodded, eager to share my happiness, and Grayden clasped my hand to take me to them. As we drew nearer, it became clear that Steldor, wearing an emerald-green doublet, black trousers and shiny boots that buckled all the way up the shafts, was in top form. He was bidding farewell to a particularly beautiful young woman with voluminous black hair, kissing her hand in his classic style. She curtseyed to him, then flourished her hand in the air and took her leave. I had never seen her before, but noticed that he watched her until she had disappeared into the crowd. Had he found a marriage prospect or a fresh amusement? I didn’t care, for it was irrefutable that he had found something.
“Shaselle!” he crowed, giving Galen a shove on the shoulder to draw his notice. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, ready to make my announcement. “Grayden and I—”
“Say, have you seen Cannan?” Galen interrupted, focusing on Steldor rather than on me. “Sorry,” he added, his contrition not entirely believable.
“He was looking for us, wasn’t he?” Steldor grew more somber, and I marveled at how self-absorbed the two of them could be. Addressing us, he asked, “Have either of you seen the captain?”
“No, not tonight,” I replied, too elated to be annoyed.
“Could be important.” Galen nudged Steldor, a touch of urgency in his voice, and I glanced back and forth between them, perplexed at their manner.
“Probably is.”
“We should find him.”
“Come on.” Steldor threw an arm around Galen, and the two of them strode off together. I watched them in awe, for they seemed to have forgotten I existed.
“Excuse me,” I said to Grayden, curiosity burning. “But I must speak with my cousin. He’ll see me safely home.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”
“No, no, I’ll be fine.” I flashed a smile, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before hastening after the frustrating duo, determined to make them listen. I tagged along for ten minutes before they acknowledged my presence, but even then they didn’t slow their pace, for Steldor had caught sight of his father up ahead. Cannan came to meet them.
“Two hours I’ve been searching for you boys. Having fun?” The captain was irked, but that didn’t forestall Galen.
“Yes, sir,” he declared, with an impudent grin.
Cannan almost rolled his eyes, then he dropped his volume. “The manor house, half an hour. Understood?”
Steldor and Galen nodded, then Cannan’s eyes fell on me.
“Shaselle, you should go back to the faire,” he decreed, a warning underlying his tone.
I knew I should obey, and I certainly knew Cannan wasn’t likely to give me permission to remain with Steldor and Galen. Still, something was up, and I wanted to be a part of it. I stayed put, peering sheepishly up at him.
“Shaselle,” he prompted.
“I’d like to come,” I murmured, fearful of his reaction. “I’ll stay out of the way and won’t cause any trouble.”
The captain crossed his arms. “No, there is too much at risk.”
“Uncle, please! I may be able to help. Perhaps messages need to be delivered. You might all be under surveillance, but no one would be watching me.”
“She already knows where we’re meeting,” Steldor pointed out, an argument that had not yet come to me.
“So there’s not much point in trying to keep her away,” Galen finished, looking at me with understanding in his eyes. He had heard my confession about Saadi and probably wanted to show that he still trusted me.
Cannan glared at his son by blood and his son by familiarity and responsibility. To my astonishment, he relented.
“She can come, but one of you takes her when we split up. I don’t want her getting lost.”
I bounced on the balls of my feet, exhilarated by the captain’s decision, then froze when his stern eyes fell on me. He did not see this as cause for celebration.
“Half an hour,” he grumbled in reminder, walking away.
I went with Steldor, and we surreptitiously departed the festival grounds, heading up the hillside and stopping a few times to talk with folks. I worried we would be late, but my cousin was not bothered.
“Trust me, stealth is much more important here than punctuality,” he told me with a smirk.
When the crowd began to thin, my heartbeat calmed, for we were making better progress. We passed through the Market District only to be slowed once more when we reached the thoroughfare.
“We are late by now,” I harassed.
“My father will either assume we’re dead or that I’m up to my usual tricks. If I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be.”
His eyes glinted wickedly, suggesting he enjoyed needling his father, perhaps even to the same extent he enjoyed his popularity.
I shrugged, keeping my silence the rest of the trek to Cannan’s manor house, where Steldor had grown up. He rapped four times on the door and we were ushered inside by Galen, who locked the door before heading through the kitchen and down a flight of stairs into a cellar. Only a single torch was lit in the small, clammy space, making it difficult to distinguish the faces of the men who had gathered.
“Delayed?” Cannan asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“Come now, Father. I had baggage,” Steldor shot back, and I shoved him, not appreciating his gibe.
“Everyone’s here,” Galen said from beside me. “Doors are barred. What’s the word?”
My eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting during the brief exchange, and I glanced about me, recognizing the rest of the men: King Adrik, Baron Koranis, Lord Temerson and, most shocking of all, London. No one in the city had heard word of the deputy captain since the failed rebellion.
The former Elite Guard was first to answer. “The High Priestess is back in Cokyri.”
“And Narian will leave to report to her on the outcome of the festival tomorrow morning,” Temerson added, apparently the rebel party’s ears within the Bastion.
“Give him a day of travel, and he, too, will be out of our way,” London asserted.
“Then our course is clear.” Cannan’s voice was strong, decisive. “No more waiting. The plan goes into action two evenings hence.”
A strange mixture of excitement and panic hit me at my uncle’s words, but the demeanors of those around me did not change. They had been involved in this for a long time.
“It’s not safe for me to remain in the city for long.” London was speaking again. “I can’t risk being seen and will need to ride hard for Cokyri. I’ll do my best to keep Narian and the High Priestess occupied.”
Cannan nodded, and London took the steps to the main floor two at a time, his shadow falling upon us like an ominous portent when he opened the door, the darkness feeling more oppressive upon its close.
“All right,” the captain said, reclaiming our attention. “Word has been spread to our accomplices within the city, London has armed the villagers and all are waiting for our signal.”
Koranis stooped to hoist up a canvas bag, which he dropped on the rickety table before us.
“The rockets,” he said, pulling a long, slender tube from the bag. “The King of Sarterad had to send
all the way to Alidovia for these—they only arrived yesterday. Prop them up facing skyward, light the wick at the bottom and we have our signal.”
He tossed the strange tube he held to Steldor, then removed two more from the bag for Galen and Temerson.
“Set them off as planned, in the designated areas of the city, and be ready,” Cannan ordered.
“I’ll certainly have to be,” said a new voice—one with an accent. We all leaped backward to face the cellar stairs, where we could hear methodical footsteps descending. Knives had appeared in the hands of the men around me; they were small, but they would be effective.
The Cokyrian commander emerged into the torchlight, calm and unarmed.
“Oh, good Lord,” King Adrik breathed, but everyone else stood silently, rigidly, their eyes assessing the enemy.
Addressing the captain, Narian declared, “This stops now.”
Cannan clenched his jaw and I slipped behind Steldor, hoping he would shield me. But if we were arrested, not even he could protect me. Maybe if I hid…but there was nowhere to conceal myself. I certainly had a knack for stumbling into the most compromising and dangerous of situations. I hadn’t been involved in this at all, but was sure to be sentenced for it now. Taking a breath, I forced myself to step into the open. After all, I had wanted to be here. And if I had to die, I stood in good company.
“What is it you think you know?” Steldor demanded, but Narian ignored him, speaking only to Cannan.
“You have the ability to be the voice of reason here. Don’t let these men walk to their deaths.”
“Should I have them die by execution instead?” the captain ground out, but Narian did not flinch, continuing to stare at him, steely conviction in his eyes.
“I’m alone, Cannan. I’ve been following your movements and the movements of your men since Shaselle was caught with that dagger, and I haven’t said a word to the High Priestess, to my comrades, not even to Alera. I’m giving you a chance to walk away, to live. Don’t be a fool—take it.”
Cannan tucked his knife into the shaft of his boot, then cast his eyes over Steldor, Galen, Adrik and Koranis. All resolutely met his gaze.
“I don’t see fear in this room, Narian,” he said, shaking his head. “Do what you must, as will we.”
“Then you’re asking to die!” For a moment there was a pleading note in Narian’s voice, an indication of how torn he was about his position. He didn’t want to put these men to death. “If I arrest you, you will be executed. If I let you go forward, you will fail.”
“The only way we could fail,” Steldor interjected in a low voice, “is by accepting what you have handed our people. We owe this to them.”
“You owe them your leadership, not the sacrifice of your lives. The High Priestess will not relinquish this province, in that she is unyielding. She and the Overlord fought too long and too hard for it. Don’t do this.”
My uncle approached the Cokyrian commander with an almost sympathetic expression. His dark eyes had lost none of their determination, but he meant to reach the young man with his words.
“Who are you, Narian?” The question was strange, but Narian seemed to understand its significance. “From the moment you set foot in Hytanica, you have tried to play both sides. You’ve spent far too long being a Cokyrian with Hytanican blood, and it ends now, for better or worse. There is no more in between, so do what you must. Either have us arrested, or allow us to go forward.”
Narian met Cannan’s gaze, not discomfited by the taller man’s proximity. In truth, he had nothing at all to fear from us, what with the powers he possessed. But I wished I could see something in his eyes, some indication of what he would do from here.
“Very well, Captain. I will do as you say—what I must.”
Showing us his back, Narian ascended the stairs, disappearing through the cellar door. Steldor immediately made to follow, but Cannan grasped his shirt.
“Let me go,” my cousin snapped, but his father stepped closer, until their faces were just inches apart.
“Don’t be reckless,” the captain muttered. “He will kill you if you challenge him.”
Steldor gave in, and his father released his grip.
“Then what do we do?” Galen asked.
“Nothing has changed.” Cannan looked around at the men who would follow his orders, to the grave and beyond. “We will do exactly what we have planned. Until and unless Narian stops us, we proceed.”
“But…but isn’t that dangerous?” King Adrik queried.
“This has always been dangerous. But I’m willing to take a chance on Narian.”
The silence in the aftermath of the captain’s statement reinforced my sense that, at a single wave of the Cokyrian commander’s hand, we would all be buried alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE:
INCONGRUITIES
ALERA
A creeping sensation at the base of my spine woke me in the middle of the night. I had gone to bed alone, for Narian had not come to me, but I was no longer certain I was the only person in the room. Unnerved, I slowly opened my eyes to see him next to me on his back, hands behind his head, fully awake and staring at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, and he shrugged.
“I’m…thinking.”
“Yes, I can see that much.” I plucked at the bedclothes, then tried again. “What time is it? It must be close to morning—have you slept at all?”
Again, that shrug.
“I’ll take that as a no.” I laughed, trying to lighten his mood.
I draped my arm across his chest, pressing myself against him, and he lowered one arm to embrace me. I was concerned about him—the previous evening he’d left the royal box shortly before the feast and had not returned to eat with us, unlike the other men. Perhaps he had wanted to avoid all contact with Koranis, or avoid problems for Alantonya if the Baron saw her with their firstborn. It wasn’t until the feast had concluded, and the drinking and dancing had begun, that he had returned. And at that point, he had, without explanation, taken me back to the Bastion, insisting that I stay there. I had done as he had requested, despite the fire and explosions that had occurred a few hours later, and I had not attended the faire on this, its final day, again in accordance with his wishes. He had handled the disturbance of the night before but did not trust that there would be no further breaches of the peace. Now he was avoiding sleep, and he would be leaving early in the morning for Cokyri.
“You need rest, Narian,” I murmured, fighting off drowsiness. “Are you thinking about your family?”
“Alera, you are my family. You’re all the family I need.” He hesitated, then changed the subject. “Can…can I ask you for a favor?”
“Of course,” I answered, sitting up, for whatever was on his mind was more serious than I had thought.
“Come to Cokyri with me.”
I peered at him, unable to see his face clearly in the darkness. “What? Why?”
“I want you to see it. The mountains. When all is said and done, I don’t know how often I’ll be returning there. I just…want you to see it.”
“All right,” I said, baffled by the unusual nature of the request and by his explanation, for he regularly went to Cokyri. But if it was important to him—and obviously it was—I would go.
We left the Bastion a few hours later, neither one of us having fallen back to sleep, Narian having spent a good part of the morning in discussion with his new sec
ond-in-command, who would be in charge while we were gone. Despite his total lack of rest, Narian showed fewer signs of tiredness than I did.
Horses were brought to the courtyard gates for our use, and we departed with an entourage of guards. Cannan bid us farewell, bowing to me and giving Narian a respectful nod of his head which my betrothed solemnly returned. As we rode down the thoroughfare, people stopped to watch, a few spitting in the street at the Cokyrian guards who were with us, a few calling to me. I could imagine how strange I looked to the citizenry, dressed in the breeches and cloak I always wore when riding. But comfort came first on a long trip such as this.
We passed through the city gates, then turned east, which I found troubling, for the only bridge across the Recorah River lay to our south. When we drew near the shimmering surface of the water, I was taken aback to find that I was wrong—the Cokyrians had reconstructed the bridge that had burned during the original war, making it easier to reach their homeland, which lay in the mountains to our northeast. While this made sense from their standpoint, it was another reminder that we no longer determined our own fate. From the bridge, we would either continue east across the Cokyrian Desert or turn north directly into the mountain range. Recalling my own trek through the forest and into the Niñeyre Mountains when we had fled the palace, neither route seemed appealing. One would be hot and dusty; the other would be steep and full of pitfalls.
After crossing the bridge, we turned north, following the river and avoiding the desert. Narian had chosen a mountain route. When we neared the thick tangle of the Kilwin Forest, we stopped to rest and water our horses, and to eat and drink ourselves. I was tired and sore, but dared not complain, not wanting the Cokyrian soldiers to think I was weak.
We resumed the journey at full strength, moving uphill, following a trail that the enemy had cleared to make the trek to and from Cokyri an easier one. Nonetheless, the ride was strenuous, uncomfortable and meandering, for the trail wound its way through rock outcroppings and thick stands of trees. In the late afternoon, we reached a plateau, where the river flowed beneath the rock on which we stood, and I realized this was where the enemy had crossed the river to invade our kingdom and attack us from the north.
