The Forgotten World

by Robin D. Mahle

  “I think we can work with that,” she finally said, continuing our conversation from earlier.

  It was an effort not to let my jaw drop in surprise.

  I guess the last few months have changed us all.

  The Idealist

  Anton sat in on another tutoring session with the other boys. The two called themselves brothers even though they weren’t related by blood. Instead, they were related because the General had adopted them as his sons.

  He had the feeling they would call him brother, too, if he let them. That they could feel more like family than the one he had left behind. Not that he let himself think about that life often.

  He had left it behind, along with his name. One day, the smaller boy, the one who smirked all the time, called him Gunther after a hero in a story.

  “Gunther.” He tested the word out when he was by himself and smiled. He liked it. A new name for a new life.

  Besides, anything that made it harder for the president to track him down was a good thing.

  The tutor went on about a book that Gunther had already read. He didn’t find it boring, though; instead, he found himself enjoying the way the man spoke, the way he taught. It was strange to see that a tutor could be kind in his approach, and patient.

  Gunther laughed at the way the tutor simply rolled his eyes when the general’s sons cracked jokes about the material or argued over the right answer.

  The book subjects were things he knew well, but then, there was also the physical training. The two boys sparred with each other and the crew. It was impressive to see their skill at such young ages. He wasn’t quite well enough to participate yet. Still, he took it all in. Silently.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Adelaide

  “Is something wrong with the food, My Lady?” The servant trembled, still refusing to meet my eyes.

  I didn’t blame her now that I had seen the king’s ire firsthand. Just yesterday our dinner had been interrupted with the swift beheading of a female servant who had spilled wine on one of the courtiers.

  I blanched just recalling it, the way I had retreated into myself to keep the revulsion off my face. The silent tears tracking down BeLa’s cheeks, and the general’s carefully neutral expression. The complete lack of surprise from the court at the casual act of violence.

  And, of course, my would-be husband’s dismissal of the whole incident. Apparently, he no longer felt the need to put on a display for me. But why?

  This poor girl was no doubt afraid she would meet the same fate if I complained about the food. No matter that she hadn’t even made it.

  I would have forced the food down for her sake, if I could have. But the jelly looked for all the world to me like blood and the biscuits, flesh. I couldn’t stomach even the sight of it.

  Had I realized how much time had passed while I was staring blankly out the window, I might have at least made an effort to throw some of it away or push it around my plate.

  “It was delicious.” My lie felt flat even without the clear evidence to the contrary, but she wouldn’t contradict me. “Please leave it so I might enjoy more of it before my meeting with the king.”

  She met my eyes once, her gaze fiercer than I would have expected.

  “Thank you.” She backed out of the room just in time for a guard to retrieve me.

  I had chosen my clothes with care today from the ever-growing stack the king continually had sent up to my rooms. The top was sheer navy with gold beads sewn in to resemble the night sky. It crossed at my waist to connect with flowing pants, the bottom of which were embroidered in a similar pattern.

  The colors brought out my large eyes, and the design displayed my small waist rather than the decided lack of assets elsewhere. I topped it off with a gold headpiece that wasn’t quite a tiara, but was close enough to a crown to convey my meaning.

  I had even taken a moment to apply cosmetics, something I hadn’t bothered with since my arrival.

  So, when the guard called for me from the hallway, I was physically ready, at least. I followed him to the timeless chamber where the king and I were, once again, alone. He had stopped inviting the general to these sessions, and I had pretended not to notice or care.

  I worried I had overdone it when he froze for a moment, his gaze lingering on my bare stomach before catching my eye.

  “I knew you could look every inch the queen, if only you put the effort in.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” I said drily, and he chuckled.

  “Come now, you know you are exquisite.”

  I was average-looking, but my features were rare enough in Levelia to suit his needs, I supposed. Still, I forced a smile that bordered on coy, as though his opinion mattered in the slightest to me.

  He moved closer to me, and I lifted a hand to his tunic, letting my fingers rest over the pocket where the necklace was for a moment before I lifted my eyes to his.

  “Shall we begin?”

  The king smiled, enjoying my games. That made one of us. His face was striking, nearly perfect in symmetry and exuding masculinity. But to me, it felt like little more than pretty housing for the evil creature that resided within him.

  I fought not to shudder when his hand trailed up mine before disappearing inside his coat. He handed me the necklace, and our practice began.

  Today, we were working on multiple targets at once. The underlying principle was that I could only do what my mind could focus on. So, I could create a shield, hold it there, and create another one. I could shield one thing and blast another. But I couldn’t focus my attention on several things simultaneously, so neither could the crystal.

  “Incredible,” the king mused. “I’ve been studying the use of crystals for years, but you truly are remarkable. The force of your will is something to behold.” He beamed at me, as though I was a creation of his making and not a girl he had met mere weeks ago.

  I forced myself to flush slightly under his praise. When I was focusing hard enough to sound genuinely distracted, I finally broached the subject I would just as soon avoid forever.

  “I’ve been thinking about your proposition.” I wanted him to think I was nervous, that I was bringing it up during training on purpose. It was true enough to be believable.

  “And?” The glint in his eyes told me he knew where this was going.

  “I’m not opposed,” I said. There was no truth there to cling to, only the steadfast hope that he would attribute any off sound to my nervousness.

  He touched my shoulder to turn me around, and I let the orbs drop. His hand went to my face, trailing down to my wrist.

  “And this?” He dragged his thumb across the midnight script, the symbol of my commitment to Clark.

  I forced myself to maintain the eye contact he had initiated, and lied harder than I had ever lied in my life.

  “It means nothing anymore. I was naïve to think we would have a happy ending with that sort of beginning.” I swallowed hard before peppering in a truth that was almost harder to say aloud.

  “Before we were brought here, he told me he was already having doubts. I’d just as soon be done with the whole thing and move on to something more.” I paused, pulling up the heiress face I had worked so hard to perfect.

  I played into what the king already believed of my ambition, what the general had told him of my strength. “Advantageous,” I finished up in a cold, determined voice.

  “I see.” He examined my face for an infinite moment. “I will not be made a fool of by another wife.”

  For a moment, the empty expression in his fathomless dark eyes convinced me that my best efforts had not been enough, that this may all end right here. The only comfort I had was that with the necklace, it wouldn’t be me who did not survive the encounter.

  Perhaps he wasn’t the only sociopath in the room, because the thought held some minimal appeal. But I well-remembered the general’s lesson on war, how killing a king usually did more to incite one than to avoid it. We needed to involve the peop
le, and we needed to give them a replacement.

  Then, the king spoke again.

  “The life of a queen is not easy. I would need a more permanent commitment from you, a show of your loyalty.” He gripped my wrist tighter.

  In my head, I pictured the child who had died. The servant who had been beheaded. I pictured everyone who would continue to be put at risk if I couldn’t go through with this until I was sure I could respond without screaming.

  “Of course. This would be no ordinary union.” My voice was steadier than it had any right to be. “I’m sure we have time to discuss terms.”

  “There has been another uprising.” His abrupt change of subject caught me off guard. “My people need something to celebrate. I’m aware that weddings are more complex where you come from, but here they are a simple affair. We could do it tonight, in my Court. Announce it tomorrow.”

  I willed the blood to stay in my face, but I couldn’t quite force words out.

  “Unless you aren’t as certain as you claim to be? Or you have another reason you wish to wait?”

  “The tattoo,” I finally choked out.

  “That will be taken care of.” His lips curved into what might have been called a smile, but more closely resembled a wild cat preparing to devour its prey.

  “You said a show of loyalty,” I said quietly. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I think with the responsibility of your role, it’s only fitting to have a mark harder to remove than this one is.” He squeezed my slim wrist with his much larger hand, and I knew there would be bruises there tomorrow.

  Did he mean like the tattoo on Nell’s ribcage? Is there an ink the serum can’t remove? I would have to worry about that later. Surely BeLa could come up with something.

  “Agreed,” I answered him. “Can I expect a display of your loyalty as well?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I am willing to enter into a political alliance with you. Not yet a physical one.”

  “The marriage won’t be official unless we complete the entire ceremony.” There was a dangerous edge to his voice.

  “I’m aware. And I am happy to inform the people that it has been done. But I prefer to have spent more than a handful of days in someone’s company before engaging in that act.” My relationship with Clark would suggest otherwise, but the king didn’t know how little actual time of that had been spent together.

  I held my breath for his response, still not commenting on his painful grip.

  “It is within my rights to demand both of these things, as King.”

  “Of course, it is.” Tendrils of fear crept up my spine, and it was an effort to keep my focus. “But a cooperative queen is so much more useful, don’t you think?” I shattered the orb at my right with a thought, and floated the pieces to the ground.

  He narrowed his eyes, lust flaring in them at my display. This cat and mouse game was like foreplay to him.

  “I won’t wait forever.” His fingers pressed to the point of breaking my wrist, but I didn’t cry out.

  “You’re hurting me,” I said with all the false calm I could muster.

  “My apologies, My Queen.” His eyes were as empty as the words when he lifted my wrist to his mouth.

  The gesture was both so similar to Clark’s and so horrifically different that I had to fight to keep tears from springing into my eyes. I took a deep breath.

  Five. I only have to do this for five days.

  Four. We have a plan to end this.

  Three. I am saving lives.

  Two. I volunteered for this, insisted on it.

  One. I can do this.

  But even I heard the doubt in that last thought.

  The Idealist

  Gunther eyes widened in confusion the first time Clark used a hand gesture to communicate with him. It wasn’t one he’d ever used, but it was easy enough to figure out. The confusing thing was that someone would be willing to communicate with him in his own way.

  Tentatively, he had shaped his hand the same way, still half-wondering if it was some trick.

  But Clark had only smiled, and Xavier’s eyes lit up. If the two of them would treat each other with half as much kindness as they did Gunther, the general probably wouldn’t have to put them on extra duty so often.

  One day, Gunther couldn’t take it anymore. They were arguing, again, about the design of the sword they were using.

  “For the last time, Clark, you aren’t always right. This is a rapier. See the hilt?”

  “No, the blade is too thick. Kind of like your skull. It’s clearly a broadsword.”

  Back and forth, they went. Gunther, knowing full well what kind of sword it was, tried numerous times to get their attention with his hands, to put an end to another pointless debate on their part.

  Eventually, he sighed before opening his mouth without thinking. He had been practicing in private, but he surprised even himself when he felt his throat muscles working.

  “Actually, Brothers, you’re both wrong. It’s a cutlass. See the curved blade?”

  Both their faces went slack, then Xavier’s turquoise eyes actually filled up with tears.

  “You spoke, Gunther,” he said.

  “And you called us brothers,” Clark finished.

  And from then on, that’s what they were.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Clark

  “I’ll be right back,” Gunther said.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Restroom.” His face was carefully neutral.

  “I’ll come with you,” Xavier offered.

  “It’s not a team sport, Big Brother.” Gunther sighed.

  Truthfully, I had been wondering when it might get to him, the way Xav and I refused to let him out of our sight. But not enough to stop doing it.

  “I’ll just walk with you there, then.” My oldest brother smiled, and Gunther just shook his head, resigned.

  “Come on, then.”

  Shensi trailed after them, equally unwilling to be more than a few feet from Gunther at any given time, even when it meant being subjected to Biscuit’s presence.

  “You need to give the boy room to breathe,” Locke said after they left.

  “We will.” Eventually. “When it’s safe. But there are enemy soldiers, and the Court has disappeared.”

  I didn’t even want to think about what they were up to or the fact that we hadn’t been careful enough, hadn’t taken them seriously enough. Now, who knew what they were up to.

  But we had talked it to death, and there was nothing we could do. For all we knew, they had a way to get below. The general claimed to be as much in the dark as we were.

  When Locke raised his eyebrows, I raised mine right back.

  “You mean how you’re going to let Addie out of your sight when you finally find her safe?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed, but he declined to respond. The man was like a father to Addie. It was killing him to not be with her now. I hadn’t explicitly told him what kind of danger she was in, but he was no one’s fool.

  Nell came inside just as Xavier and Gunther returned from their brief trek to the other side of the house, the latter still wearing a long-suffering expression.

  SuEllen entered behind her, along with KeLia and JeVani, and a handful of other trusted Levelians.

  “You said you had an idea?” Nell asked. Her voice was imperious, but it was hard to take her seriously when she had also picked up Shensi like a baby, white fur fluffing out in every direction.

  “I did.” Since I had gone to the palace, an idea had been taking root in my mind. A way to get around in the palace unseen, to minimize the necessary casualties.

  “Before you begin,” SuEllen cut in, “I have received word from your — the general,” she corrected herself.

  I exchanged a wary look with my brothers. Well, Xavier and I exchanged a wary look. Gunther’s was more exasperated. He had come to trust my father so completely again these last few weeks.

&n
bsp; An unwelcome stab of envy made me look away from him.

  Will I ever see him as a father again, the way Gunther does now?

  After seeing she had our attention, the captain continued.

  “He, Adelaide, and BeLamere have been working on a plan from the inside.”

  Somehow, I knew what she was going to say before she said it.

  “If we use the passageways, we can replace the servants with our soldiers, a few people at a time. Those who cannot pass for Levelian can hide in the passages until we strike.” Meaning Xavier and Locke, who both had skin far darker than the Levelians, and Gunther, who was much too pale.

  Not that my little brother would be going at all, if I had anything to say about it. He could stay here with Biscuit and protect Addie’s stupid cat.

  “He believes this to be our best hope to avoid unnecessary loss of life,” SuEllen finished up.

  Xavier chuckled, while Gunther looked knowingly at me. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the man who taught me to strategize had come up with the exact same plan that I had. Still, it rankled.

  “What about Addie?” I asked rather than comment on that.

  The captain wasn’t easy to read, but something in her carefully blank face told me I wouldn’t like her answer.

  “The general did send a message regarding that.” She took a deep breath. “It says, ‘Tell my hotheaded son to resist his baser nature, no matter what news he receives of his wife.’”

  My jaw clenched, and red edged into my vision. Like the man knew me anymore. Like I was some volatile eleven-year-old in training.

  What was more upsetting, though, was that he was so concerned about my reaction.

  What exactly weren’t they telling me?

  The Idealist

  Gunther peered through the magnifier attachment on his work goggles, deftly handling a pair of tiny tweezers with his gloved hands.