Hostage

by Rachel Manija Brown

  She laughed as they passed the barracks, then headed toward officers’ quarters. The squads reporting for duty vanished along the ridge in a swirl of dust. No servants were visible in the officers’ gardens.

  “Where did you stash the prisoner?” she asked, now that they were free of listening ears.

  “The cubes.”

  Kerry knew the rooms where soldiers were locked up after fights or drunk and disorderly rowdiness, to cool off or sleep it off. There were no windows or breakables, but they had a clean cot and room to stand up, which was a lot better than the hell cells.

  Santiago went on, “I thought he’d be happy to get a real bed, but he made a break for it. It took Charles and a couple others to boot him through the door.”

  “What did he expect? A house of his own?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. Maybe he thought . . .” He glanced around. “We did tell him that he was a guest and no one would hurt him.”

  Unless he needs some stick, Kerry thought. She’d find that out for herself when she got to interview him with Father.

  They ducked under the flowering purple bougainvilleas that divided the compound from the officers’ gardens. The sun was disappearing behind the hills, haloing the house’s peaked roof in red-gold light.

  “If no one’s around, want to take your bath in the courtyard pool?”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Santiago said.

  Kerry tipped her head back, inviting a kiss. After two weeks apart, she wanted to sink into it, like a hot bath. He bent toward her . . .

  “Princess! Princess!”

  She leaped back.

  A disheveled servant rushed up, her face crimson. “Princess, her highness summons you.”

  Kerry was tempted to order the servant to return and say that she hadn’t seen her. Another ten seconds, and it would have been true.

  “Don’t,” Santiago whispered. “You’re not the only one who would get into trouble.”

  The servant sent Santiago a pathetic look of gratitude, then fled.

  “I’ll see you later. Like tomorrow.” Kerry saw in Santiago’s face the same frustration she felt. She gave him a quick kiss. “Get some rest.”

  She was certain that Min Soo had sent the servant specifically to foil their reunion, as yet another infuriating, pointless “lesson” in self-control.

  Kerry walked as slowly as she dared. She had to get her temper under control, or at least her face. The smallest sign of impatience or what Min Soo called pouting, and Kerry would get an extra lecture.

  Inside her mother’s suite, Min Soo’s attar of roses hit her like a punch in the nose. She slipped off her shoes and stepped onto carpets so thick that they squelched like quicksand. If quicksand could be dyed a delicate pink.

  Min Soo wasn’t in the reception chamber. Oh, great. That meant she was in her frilly bedroom. Sure enough, her mother lounged on the silk coverlet, being fanned by a maid. She smiled and patted the bed.

  Kerry folded her arms. There were no chairs, but if it was sit next to her mother or stand, she would stand.

  With a frown, Min Soo dismissed the maid. As the door closed soundlessly, she offered Kerry a delicate saucer heaped with candied rose petals. “I saved these for you, my darling.”

  “You know I don’t like those.” Kerry loathed the perfume-tasting things.

  “Even a crown princess must have good manners,” Min Soo said in her sweetest voice. “If someone offers you food, especially a delicacy they might prefer to eat themselves, you always graciously accept.” She extended the dish again to Kerry. “Let’s try that again. Please, my dear, have a sweet.”

  “Thank you.” Kerry boiled with anger as she choked down the smallest petal she could find. It stuck in her throat.

  “That’s better. At your age, and with your responsibilities, perfect manners should be a habit. Now, sit beside me and tell me about your afternoon.”

  Kerry knew what her mother really wanted. Father obviously hadn’t filled her in about the prisoner. Kerry was once again stuck between the two of them. But that didn’t mean she had to give in.

  She leaned against the bed, hoping that would be close enough to satisfy her mother without having to sit on silk when she was hot and sweaty. “My tutor set up a military problem for me. I have to take a guarded dam on a mountain river. They have a force of sixty, no horses. I’ve got a team of—”

  “I’m sure you will do admirably, dear,” Min Soo interrupted. “And what else did you do? Outside of your lessons?”

  “I got in some good training. We’re doing night maneuvers next month, so I’ve got to practice moonlight orienteering.” Kerry stopped there to force her mother to bring up Father.

  Min Soo helped herself to a pink rose petal. “And in the interview chamber? Did you learn anything new from your father?”

  “You know I can’t talk about that.”

  Min Soo made a reproving click with her tongue. “Ian shares everything with me. There are no secrets between us.”

  Hot blood rushed to Kerry’s face. “Then he can tell you himself. Why are you asking me?”

  Min Soo’s voice was calm and sweet as always. “For your perspective. And further, it’s a matter of trust, darling. I would never interfere in your relationship with your father. That’s very important, and it fills me with pride. But you seem to assume you have nothing to learn from your mother. What I teach you is just as important as what you learn from your father. But you are going to have to show some respect for the niceties of life before you can be trusted with more dangerous knowledge.”

  “Who cares about niceties?” Kerry burst out. “Those are for weak people. Followers. It doesn’t matter if people like me, when I can have them executed.”

  Min Soo shook her head. “Darling, you must never rest on the assumption of power. Ian was not the only potential ruler of his generation. The princes and princesses whom he liked are ruling towns in his empire. The others are dust and bone.”

  Why did Min Soo have to bring that up? Father undoubtedly had his reasons. They were probably traitors. “Then you should be teaching my half-sibs how to make me like them. I’m the crown princess. There’s no one above me.”

  Min Soo held up a delicate fist. Opening one finger, she said, “Sean.”

  Kerry snorted with contempt. “He’d never hurt me. Anyway, he’s never coming back.”

  “You don’t know that. On both counts.” Another finger opened. “Francisco Diaz Voske. The one they call Paco.”

  Kerry laughed. “He’s been raised by the enemy. Father would never trust him. Anyway, I’ve heard the reports on him. He doesn’t care about anything but his silly drumming.”

  “Any boy would like to wake up and find himself the crown prince of an empire. Darling, you’d be amazed at how quickly allegiances can shift.” Her hand opened. “Now back to you and your behavior. If Deirdre were still alive and, God forbid, something happened to your father, how long do you think you’d outlive him?”

  Kerry squirmed, hating her mother’s sweet, cool voice.

  “For that matter,” Min Soo added, “if your places had been reversed, how long would you have let her quarrel with you before you had her put to death?”

  Kerry, irritated, was about to snap that she wouldn’t have executed her own half-sister, no matter how much Kerry disliked her.

  But Min Soo didn’t wait for an answer. “Let us begin again.” She picked up the dish of candied rose petals, and gracefully offered it to Kerry. “Good morning, darling. Would you care for a sweet?”

  Kerry had lost this round. All she could do was try to keep this interview as short as possible. She forced herself to smile. To take one. To put the nauseating thing in her mouth, chew, swallow, and look like she liked it.

  “Thank you, Mother. How considerate of you to save them for me.”

  *

  The only thing that calmed her down after her mother’s lessons in weakness was a good ride alone. Kerry loathed being slo
wed down with honor guards and Pru had returned from Las Anclas two weeks ago, so she decided to take her father’s other option and check.

  Kerry hurried to the royal library, which was empty. Or so it seemed. She looked around, consciously thinking, Is Sean here?

  He’d been gone for three years, but she still searched for him: sometimes out of habit, and sometimes in the hope that the rumors were true, and her half-brother hadn’t run away, but was lurking in Gold Point, using his “don’t notice me” power to escape detection. But she didn’t believe it. He would have let her know.

  Kerry was alone. She bolted the hall door, but didn’t touch the door to Father’s suite. From a bottom shelf, she pulled out the most boring book ever prospected, a battered blue tome with faint gold lettering reading Estate Tax Law, Volume XLVII. Kerry ran her fingernails down the shelf until they snagged. She pried the hidden panel open and flipped the latch behind it, then sprang back as the bookcase swung out.

  She replaced the book, slipped into the passage, and hit the switches to turn on the lights and make the bookcase swing back. It was cooler than the library. She ran down the stairs, crossed under the garden, then took the stairs three at a time until she reached the door.

  Pru answered her knock. “Kerry. Your father send you?”

  Pru was shorter than Kerry, a wizened old woman with a face so wrinkled that it was hard to see her expression unless she laughed. She wore the worn cotton shirt and blue jeans she preferred, no matter how much scrip Father gave her. Her callused feet were bare as she led Kerry across carpets as soft and deep—and pink—as those in Min Soo’s rooms. It always amused Kerry how two people as completely different as her mother and Pru had such identical taste in furnishings.

  Kerry shook her head. “I want to go riding. Can you check for enemies outside the walls?”

  “Have a seat.” Pru indicated a leaf-green armchair. “There’s cucumber water in the jug.”

  Kerry poured out a mug as Pru plopped down on a mauve silk cushion and closed her eyes.

  “Ah. My old friend the peregrine is circling the Joshua Tree forest.” She paused. “He sees the sinkhole in the middle. It’s rippling. A frog jumped in. He’s diving to catch it. Oh! He got it!”

  Kerry sipped her cucumber water as Pru’s gruff voice reported everything the hawks outside of Gold Point saw and heard.

  “The only humans the kestrel at the south gate sees are the sentries, the patrols, and the pickings on the wall.” Pru opened her eyes. “Go riding. My hawks see no one approaching. You can tell your father there will be no attack before sundown.”

  Chapter Thirteen. Gold Point.

  Ross

  Ross huddled in the corner of the windowless room. His chest hurt as if it was squeezed in a vise. No matter how he gasped for breath, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.

  I’m not here, he told himself. I’m in Mia’s cottage. The windows are wide open, and flies are buzzing in circles. Mia’s sitting next to me, so close that I can see the rip in her shirt, and her skin showing through.

  The door creaked open. Ross didn’t move. People had opened it before, to give him food he couldn’t force himself to eat, but there was no sunlight or fresh air, just a windowless corridor. He’d stay where he was, and think about Mia again—

  A girl’s voice startled him. “Is he faking? He tricked the scout team.”

  A man said, “I don’t think so.” Footsteps came closer. “Look how the sweat’s pouring off him. He can’t fake that.”

  Ross heard the shift of fabric as someone crouched next to him. He curled tighter into his ball.

  “What’s the matter, Ross?” The man sounded friendly. “Are you sick?”

  Ross tightened his arms around his head.

  “Come on. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Ross opened his eyes, peering past the crook of his elbow. He couldn’t see much. He uncurled his right arm. A man with silver hair knelt beside him, smiling. Ross focused on his sharp-featured face to avoid looking at the ceiling.

  “Talk to me,” the man encouraged.

  “Can you get me outside?” Ross forced the words out.

  The man glanced around the room. “Oh.” He hauled Ross to his feet.

  Ross shook the hands off. The man stepped away, leaving Ross standing. “Follow me.”

  Ross glanced at the girl as he went into the corridor. She was his age, her steady gaze curious. He looked past her to memorize the layout before they locked him back in: two guards outside the room, two more at the end of the corridor. They all had rifles as well as batons.

  The man opened a door and let Ross step outside. The sun was bright, the air moved. He shut his eyes against the glare off the pale dirt and just breathed.

  “What did you see in there, Kerry?” the man asked.

  Nothing, Ross thought. Nothing but walls closing in.

  The girl, Kerry, said, “He’s scared of us.”

  “But we’re still here,” the man replied. “What do you see now?”

  Kerry’s voice was precise, like she thought about every word. “You’re right, Father. He’s not afraid of us. It was something about the room. I’m not sure what.”

  “Ask him,” the man said. Ross could hear a smile in his voice.

  A foot crunched the gravel beside Ross. He resisted the urge to move away.

  “What was wrong with the cube?” Kerry asked.

  Ross didn’t answer.

  “You weren’t put there as a punishment, Ross,” the man said. “It was meant as a quiet place to rest after a tiring journey.”

  Ross’s right hand flexed. He couldn’t help it.

  The man went on, “If you don’t tell us what was wrong, we won’t know how to fix it. Where would you like to stay?”

  “Somewhere with windows,” Ross said reluctantly. But now that he’d spoken, he added, “Whatever you want me to do, I won’t do it. So you might as well let me go.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make a better offer for your talents. My daughter can show you around. Kerry, not the guest quarters. I think he’d prefer Deirdre’s old room.”

  Ross opened his eyes in time to see the tall, silver-haired man walk back inside. He wore a fancy uniform and polished riding boots. Ross didn’t need to see how fast the two guards saluted to know that if the man wasn’t Voske himself, it was probably his second in command.

  Kerry had the same angular features and slanting eyebrows as the silver-haired man, making her face more striking than pretty. Something about them both seemed familiar, but he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was only that they looked so much like each other.

  She was a bit taller than Ross. Long black braids coiled around her head like a crown, and she wore well-woven riding clothes with fine embroidery. Her new boots didn’t have a single wrinkle across the uppers or sag at the ankle, and the earrings that swung glinting at her cheeks were made of gold.

  “This way.” Kerry indicated a gate across the plaza. Or maybe a parade ground, as only soldiers were in view: a pair on the wall either side of the gate, and a squad marching in. They spread out in lines and started exercising. If Ross made a run for it, he’d be jumped or shot in seconds.

  He walked beside Kerry, taking her in. She had no visible weapons, but since her father had left her alone with him, she must be a good fighter. She moved like one. But Ross was a good fighter too. If he could get her alone, he’d try to take her by surprise.

  They passed through the gate to a tree-lined path leading upward.

  Kerry broke the silence. “How did you escape from the scout team?”

  He shrugged, peering between the trees. No soldiers in sight—so far.

  “You have nothing to fear. My father won’t hurt you,” Kerry said.

  The huge city walls rose up on their left. He didn’t see any sentries on the wall. Scrubby hills rose up behind it. If he knocked Kerry out and climbed the wall, he could make a run north for the Joshua
Forest. He’d crawled through it the last time he’d been in this territory, with the bounty hunter in pursuit.

  “You remember Charles?” Kerry went on. “He was recruited, just like you. He and his husband have a fine house nearby. They met each other here.”

  Ah. Here came sentries from both directions.

  “. . . Father said it took Charles a while to adjust, but that was years ago. He’s perfectly happy now. We make a point of rewarding people for good work, here in Gold Point.”

  I remember what I saw on points, Ross thought, throwing his head back.

  The palace that loomed beyond the trees was so startling that he almost missed his step. It was the biggest building he’d ever seen, more than twice the size of the Las Anclas town hall.

  “And that’s the royal palace,” Kerry said. “You’re the first . . . guest I’ve ever seen Father invite to stay there. You should feel honored.”

  So that silver-haired man was Voske. And this girl was his daughter. Ross tightened all over. He had to get away.

  Guards passed in pairs along the towering roof. In the time it took to walk five steps, he counted four pairs. There must be three times that many on the ground.

  “You’ll like Deirdre’s room. She loved pretty things, so it’s full of artifacts. Perfect for a prospector.”

  If Ross was going to make a break for it, it had to be now, before he got any closer to all those guards.

  “Do you like to read?” Kerry asked. “There’s—”

  Ross had casually stepped within striking distance. He shot his fist at her jaw. His knuckles slammed into what felt like a steel wall. He staggered backward, bringing up his left hand in a block. Kerry stood still, with her left hand held palm out. She brought up her right hand as if she gripped an invisible sword. Something sharp pricked Ross’s throat.

  He froze.

  “I won’t hurt you.” She smiled just like her father. “But don’t try to run.”

  Chapter Fourteen. Gold Point.

  Kerry

  Kerry let her sword vanish, though she kept her shield up.