The Forgotten World

by Robin D. Mahle

  The constant volley of arrows overhead from both sides did present an added challenge, admittedly. But the worst part was stepping over the fallen bodies of those we hadn’t reached in time, some smaller than I could bear to think about. I needed to keep my head.

  Whatever else the general had done, he had trained his sons well. And I had never been so grateful for that as I was the moment I saw an arrow flying toward my only remaining brother. Time slowed down while I lunged, closing the distance between us and whipping my sword in its path just in time.

  There was no time to celebrate the relief, though, or even the point I had clearly scored against him by having to save him in battle, because another group flooded in.

  I knew Xavier had killed before, had seen some of the Men of High Purpose fall at his feet when we were fighting in the clearing all those months ago. And I sensed that wasn’t the first time.

  We had been raised by a war general, raised in the full knowledge that sometimes it was necessary. But also to respect life. To avoid killing, when there was another way.

  Somehow, I had managed that for all these years. Until now.

  I was forced to combat the soldiers with such speed and ferocity, I didn’t have the option of tempering my blows. Minutes or hours or a lifetime passed before we finally stood somewhat victorious over our macabre battlefield.

  It was a strange feeling, a peculiar mix of triumph and sorrow and, more than either of those, a weariness that felt like it had already wormed its way into my soul.

  Silence descended. Nell picked her way over body after body before finally climbing up on the edge of the fountain, and once more addressing her people.

  She was spattered in blood, and her hair was like a wild thing, sticking out at odd angles from her face. But she had never looked more like a queen.

  “I spoke to you earlier.” Her voice carried through the square. “I talked of returning to old ways. I was wrong.”

  The people paused whatever they were doing, hanging on her every word.

  “I am not just another figurehead in a long line of Levelian queens. I will not bend to a custom that makes little sense, nor will I watch our country devolve into stagnation and complacency.

  “What I will do is fight for you!”

  Cheers went up around the square.

  “I will fight for your freedom, your safety, and I will defend it with my dying breath.”

  There was another deafening roar, and when it stopped, she spoke again.

  “We will cower and hide no more. I am the rightful queen.” Then, she turned her head to look straight into a device I hadn’t noticed before. “I am coming for you, Uncle. I will find you, and I will depose you. And nothing in this life or the next will protect you from your people’s retribution when I do.”

  If her last speech had garnered a mediocre response, there was no doubt whatsoever about the effect of this one. The people were furious, and determined. And more importantly, they were hers.

  The living soldiers had been offered mercy, if not yet freedom. Though we wouldn’t trust them to fight at our sides any time soon, she had managed to win a good number of them over as well.

  Nell didn’t rest until the very last farewell had been said over the last body, until the blood had been scrubbed from the square and the pyre of enemy soldiers burned bright.

  Only then did she return to the safehouse with her small, trusted group.

  “He will take this as a declaration of war. Rightly so.” She paused, making sure she had the attention of everyone in the room. “Which means we no longer have the luxury of time. Clark, you and SuEllen will go to retrieve Addie and BeLa. Auntie knows the castle layout. I want you to leave now, because I will be making my way there, hopefully gathering support as I go.”

  SuEllen and Locke both opened their mouths, but Nell held up a hand.

  “Locke, you and Xav are too conspicuous for a stealth mission in the castle. Auntie, I know you want to protect me, but we both know you need to retrieve your daughter more.”

  They both looked disgruntled, but said nothing.

  “Besides,” Nell continued, “Uncle will be reeling from these losses. He isn’t as powerful as his reign of terror would lead everyone to believe he is, nor is he an idiot. He won’t send more soldiers in to be slaughtered without thinking about it, and that will buy us time.”

  “Very well.” The captain embraced her niece, respect clear in her loving expression. “May HiLa’s memory protect you.”

  The words sounded like a formal goodbye, but Nell’s expression soured nonetheless, likely in the light of what she now knew about her predecessor. She shook her head, though, and responded with the same.

  I gave my brother a one-armed hug and nodded at Locke with a promise to bring Addie back safely.

  And I meant it. I would get my wife safely back or die trying.

  The Idealist

  Anton’s mother put her hands together excitedly. Her eyes sparkled when she smiled, and it made him feel proud, happy even, something he only ever felt when they were alone like this. She twirled her fingers in the symbol to try again, and gently pressed on his throat to show him how the sound should feel.

  “Robot,” Anton said it again, or at least, he thought he did.

  His mother’s smile and excited clapping confirmed it.

  They’d been working on this project in secret every afternoon. It was what he looked forward to most after his brutal tutoring sessions. Making the tiny robot from spare parts around the castle had been no problem, even at only five years of age. Saying it, on the other hand, that was another story.

  But it was necessary.

  His father wanted him to be like everyone else, and he went to great lengths to make sure his son had the best teachers for the job. Even if kindness wasn’t one of the tactics they deemed necessary for such a small child.

  Using hand gestures was a secret between him and his mother. She didn’t force him to read her lips to get it all right. She showed him in a way he understood. She made the learning fun, even.

  “Robot.” He said it again, pointing to their creation.

  His mother’s eyes welled up with tears as she kissed his forehead, nodding.

  If all of his childhood memories had been that happy, then maybe Anton could’ve stayed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Adelaide

  It was an effort to keep the excitement off my face after I had seen Clark alive. Excitement and an intense, almost painful longing I had managed to keep at bay when his face wasn’t right in front of me.

  I missed everything about him, the way his cobalt eyes constantly assessed everything around him...the way they had so often followed me. I missed tracing the outline of the tattoo on his wrist, and lying in his warm, protective arms. I even missed that arrogant smirk he got whenever he was right about anything.

  I must have been staring off into space again, because the general cleared his throat, and damn it all if I didn’t feel color rising into my cheeks.

  The man just smiled, though, and said, “I’m glad he has you.”

  In spite of my very best efforts, I knew Clark’s father was worming his way into my heart as surely as his brothers had. The smile wiped from the weathered man’s face, though, as we neared the room I had been summoned to.

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this one,” he muttered almost imperceptibly. “Keep your wits about you, and give him no reason to question you today.”

  My brow furrowed. I tried to never give the king a reason to question me. Why would today be any different? I finally nodded, and only then did he lead the way into the circular room.

  The king sat at what might be considered the head of the table, though it was round. There was only one empty seat, the one to his left, and the general quickly occupied it.

  Which left me standing in a room of seated men. Killian’s warning made sense now. I relaxed my fists and jaw before they could clench, and smoothed my expression into the ha
ughty mask I had once again grown used to wearing here.

  “Adelaide, dear. How lovely of you to come.” The king’s smile dared me to mention I hadn’t been given a choice.

  It’s a shame I’m taken when I could have this life to look forward to.

  It was an effort not to roll my eyes. Instead, I gave him the barest hint of a smile.

  “Of course.”

  “There’s been a bit of an incident. There are rebels in our land who wish to threaten the peace we have worked so hard for these past years.” A scowl graced his otherwise handsome face, and I forced my eyes to widen, as though this was news to me.

  “My men would appreciate a demonstration of the capabilities of the amulet.”

  I had known this would come, had steeled myself for it.

  “Where are the targets?” I asked without hesitation. What was blasting a few more orbs to buy me the time I needed to cement my plan and stay on his good side? Besides, maybe it would earn me some respect with these men.

  The king’s expression turned predatory, an anticipatory smile taking over his lips. The general’s face was pleasantly neutral, a mask of his own I recognized well from his son.

  My heartbeat thundered in my ears, faster and louder than it had a moment ago. A side door opened, and a man was dragged in, wrists chained behind him. Rough hands shoved him to the floor.

  I’m an idiot.

  I knew why the king was bothering to train me, knew what these men wanted. It hadn’t occurred to me that I would be tested quite so soon, though. Not in this way.

  The king held the necklace out to me.

  “Show them what we can do to our enemies.”

  I didn’t miss the way he had grouped us together, the implication that either the rebel was my enemy or the king was. I couldn’t quite force my fingers to reach out for the crystal, not when I had no idea what I would do with it.

  The king narrowed his eyes.

  “Are we not allies, Ms. Kensington? I was under the impression you wanted to avoid a drawn-out war?”

  Bastard, putting this on me. But I couldn’t see a way out.

  “Of course, I do. I would be happy to demonstrate what someone wielding the crystal is capable of.” Let him read that how he would.

  I waited until I could be sure my hand wouldn’t shake before reaching out to take the crystal from him.

  My eyes were glued to the man sitting stoically on the ground. Had he fought alongside Clark? Did he have a family? Did any of that matter? The value of a human life was hardly based on their connections or whether they were allied with my husband.

  I doubted the men in this room gave life any value at all.

  Don’t give him a reason to doubt you today.

  Had the general known what he would ask of me? Did he want me to see it through? He couldn’t have honestly expected me to murder someone in cold blood just because I had once killed in self-defense.

  I stole another glance at him, but his face was as unreadable as ever. The king cleared his throat, and I knew I was out of time.

  I also knew there was no possibility of me going through with this. And surely, the king had known that as well. It was a test, like everything else with him. It had to be.

  I took a deep breath, praying I was correct. The terrified cerulean gaze of the prisoner caught my own as I channeled the energy of the necklace to a single, fixed point. Then I let go.

  The gleaming metal table shattered. The men seated around it jumped back, but I used another wave of energy to keep the sharp shards in place, hovering several feet above the ground. Conveniently right around the hearts and throats of the men who had sat by moments ago while the king asked me to kill a man.

  I wonder how much they would like me to demonstrate my power now.

  The man who thought he was going to be my target was warring with himself for confusion and relief. I suspected it was too soon for the latter.

  “Would you like me to take the display further?” I paused, part of me relishing the taut silence in the room. “Or will that suffice, Your Majesty?” A cruel smile graced my lips, like I enjoyed his games as much as he did. For that matter, maybe I did like putting the men in their place a little too much.

  I let that feeling overtake me, let him see the part of me that had died with my sister and my mother. Let him see every angry, resentful piece of myself, and believe I was like him.

  There was a stilted beat of silence while he studied me, as though everyone in the room was collectively holding their breath. Finally, he let out a chuckle.

  “For now, my dear.”

  I let the pieces fall, handing the necklace back to him. The men around the table applauded, but many of them still looked shaken. Scared, even, of me.

  I’m not sure what it says about me that they happily serve their contemptible king, yet I manage to put them on their guard.

  Without waiting to be dismissed, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room. I made it around the first corner before Killian caught up to me.

  “That was a dangerous move,” he said quietly.

  I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak. Not trusting myself at all, really.

  He put a hand on my arm. It was a common gesture of chivalry here, but his gentle squeeze was comforting. “But hey, it worked.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, my voice shaking. The king might have been amused at my nerve, but he did not take well to dissention. I wouldn’t be able to pull the same trick twice.

  And next time...I couldn’t think about that right now.

  “For whatever it’s worth,” he said in a low tone, “I am proud to call you my daughter.”

  I looked up at him, my mouth slightly agape. One of the few things I had found I liked about the culture here was that there were no delineations between family members once a couple was married.

  You called both sets of parents “Mother” and “Father,” and their siblings became yours. It seemed as though Killian had no problem doing the same. The sentiment, in the light of everything else that had happened today, brought tears to my eyes.

  He laid his hand on my shoulder.

  “Chin up, at least until we reach your room.”

  I heeded his advice, if only barely. Before he left me at my door, he leaned in to embrace me. To anyone else, it would have merely looked like a fatherly hug.

  But when he was close to my ear, he whispered, “I will find a way to remove you from this danger. Be ready when I do.”

  The Idealist

  Anton sat at the table, furiously writing out an essay on the history of Picaro Island with aching hands. The work was far beyond what was expected of his older cousins at six years old, but Anton’s father, the president of SkyBlue Industries, believed in pushing his children to excellence.

  The tutor tapped Anton on the shoulder to get his attention.

  “How much more paper will you need?” the older man asked.

  Anton looked down, realizing he was, indeed, filling up the last of his paper. He thought about it, and distractedly answered, holding up three fingers then flattening his hand to symbolize sheets.

  The whip cracked across his knuckles before he even registered his mistake.

  His mother always encouraged him to use the signing language they’d created when they were alone, but told him it was important to only use his voice with everyone else.

  Some days, however, he still forgot.

  “Hold his hands.” His father’s lips would have been easy to read even if the phrase had not been so familiar.

  There was never any warning, nor second chances, when he chose to gesture rather than speak. The tutor complied without hesitation, pinning Anton’s slim wrists to the desk. Everyone in the president’s employ was well accustomed to following orders without question. Anyone with a shred of compassion was weeded out early on.

  Anton didn’t bother pleading anymore, or even trying to pull away. He knew that would only make it worse. Instead, he braced himself for the
pain to come.

  “You cannot afford to look weak and expect to survive in this world, my son.” The president brought the whip down again, slicing into Anton’s already-scarred skin. “You’ll thank me for this one day.”

  Anton highly doubted that he would ever be grateful for his father’s ‘lessons’, but they didn’t call him a genius for nothing. He wisely held his thoughts back until his father had effectively ensured he would have no desire to use his hands at all for weeks to come.

  Another crack of the whip and the flesh across his knuckles tore open, drops of blood forming around the slash.

  “Now, finish your essay,” the president said.

  “Yes, Father,” Anton said aloud. Ignoring the searing pain in his bleeding fingers, he reached for his pencil.

  “Good lad.” His father patted him on the head before striding out of the room.

  Anton’s eyes began to water, but he refused to allow his father to see his misery. One of the most important lessons he’d learned in his short life was who he could be weak around, and to whom he must show strength.

  Chapter Twenty

  Clark

  SuEllen and I had set a grueling pace, jogging and plotting for hours. Biscuit had stayed behind with Xavier, which was unfortunate, because I could have used her to calm my nerves. The stupid Court apparently had legitimately heard from the general. They told us to dress as servants, and relayed exactly which rooms BeLa and Addie were occupying.

  If he was even telling the truth.

  My heart beat faster at the thought of finally seeing Addie, taking her home, safe. It chased any hint of fatigue away, even as we traveled straight through to the morning. We crept in using one of the many passageways that the captain had told us men, even men in the royal family, were not privy to.

  After that, it was surprisingly easy to walk around the palace without attracting attention.