Hostage

by Rachel Manija Brown

  Then Voske stepped into view. His left arm hung limp at his side, but that seemed to be his only injury. For once, he wasn’t smiling. If Ross could have moved, he would have flinched back from the white-lipped fury in Voske’s face.

  It seemed forever that Voske stood over him, silent, staring down into Ross’s eyes. Then the smile returned. “Break his arm.”

  Determined to make one last effort, Ross forced a deep breath past the tearing pain in his throat. As his chest expanded, agony knifed deep into his side, leaving him dizzy. A cold sweat broke out all over his body. He couldn’t fight with broken ribs. He could barely even breathe.

  The guards jerked him to his feet. Voske gestured to the corner, where Mia’s weapon had rolled. “Use that.”

  Ross fought for breath as footsteps clomped away, then back. Hard hands yanked his right arm out and forced it straight with a hand under his elbow. Ross heard a whistle of air. Then blazing agony exploded in his arm, searing a path all the way up to his jaw.

  Everything went white, then broke up into darkening fragments. The ground dissolved under his feet.

  A stinging slap against the side of his face, hard enough to make his neck snap back, returned him to consciousness. The guards were holding him up by the shoulders, putting excruciating pressure on his broken arm. He tried to stand on his own, but his legs wouldn’t support him. He couldn’t even get his eyes to focus.

  But though everything else was hazy, he could hear every word that Voske said.

  “It didn’t have to end this way, Ross. You could have gone back to your room in the palace, fallen asleep on your soft bed, and dreamed of the rewards I’d give you. But you chose stupidity and rebellion. Your execution will begin at dawn. I’ll make sure it lasts all day.”

  Fingers snapped. “Take him to the hell cells.”

  Chapter Forty-Six. Gold Point.

  Kerry

  Kerry resisted the urge to nudge her tired horse into a gallop. She’d known she was close to home when she encountered the outer perimeter riders. Her first question after their delighted exclamations was, “Where’s Santiago?”

  To her immense relief, the patrol captain said, “He and the guest returned from the royal city—“ He glanced upward. “They returned,” he finished awkwardly.

  So Mia had been right. Ross was still a prisoner, and he hadn’t taken the opportunity to kill Santiago. In that case, Kerry would keep her word and send Ross back. She sent a mental message to Mia, Hang on. He’s on his way home.

  Giddy with relief, with anticipation, even happiness, she settled back to enjoy the rest of the ride. She recognized every bend in the trail, every rock formation. She was nearly home.

  Soon she’d be relaxing in her own room, after a hot bath and with Santiago by her side. Her father would be so proud of her for arranging her own escape, and for surviving the desert alone. She’d give the horses from Las Anclas to Ross when he left the next morning, along with Kogatana.

  She scratched the gray rat behind her ears. It was too bad Kerry couldn’t keep her. She’d gotten quite fond of the furry little creature, who had curled up so warm and soft in Kerry’s arms during the miserable cold nights, and warned her when predators were near.

  But there wouldn’t be any more cold nights! And no more predators. Soon she’d be in her own bed, sleeping under down covers, on clean sheets, with a pillow, in perfect safety. In all those uncomfortable desert nights, Kerry had missed pillows the most.

  She was grinning as the tired horse plodded around the tangled wall of spines of the Joshua tree forest. There was the familiar glow of floodlights outlining the crenellations of the city wall, and there were the familiar heads on spikes.

  For the first time in her life, Kerry saw those heads as more than objects and warnings. Even the oldest skulls, the ones so worn down by weather that you could hardly even see what they were, had once belonged to real people.

  They were traitors and criminals, she reminded herself.

  Mia and Yuki and Jennie were traitors and criminals.

  The features weren’t clear on the freshest head, but Kerry thought it was male. As she came close enough to distinguish color, she saw that its hair was gray. Some old traitor or criminal. She wondered what they’d said or did.

  Kerry hadn’t believed Mia’s claim that no one would be punished for defying Tom Preston, but days after the commotion outside of the forge, Kerry had seen the same people who’d argued with Preston freely going about their business. Kerry grimaced up at that silent skull. In Gold Point, townspeople who’d argued with Father would have added their heads to the wall.

  She averted her gaze from the heads. Why spoil her homecoming? Better to think about how proud Father would be at her escape. Of course he’d let Ross go—as long as Santiago was still safe. I keep my word.

  The gates screeched open, and people began shouting. “The princess! Welcome back, Princess Kerry!” Everyone was saluting and cheering.

  Kerry waved and smiled at her people. She turned right and left, the way Min Soo had taught her, including everyone. But the second she was past, they stopped looking at her and began talking urgently to each other. It hardly seemed possible, but they were acting as if there was something more important going on than the return of the kidnapped crown princess.

  Someone said, “What’s that furry thing?”

  “It’s a giant rat!”

  “That’s got to be one of the trained rats from Las Anclas,” a third person said, and added loudly, “The princess captured one of their rats!”

  As a cheer went up, Kerry thought, That’s more like it. She chirruped to Kogatana, who leaped down obediently. Kerry was about to explain that the rats were way too smart to get captured, when everyone backed away.

  Min Soo came running gracefully along the garden path.

  Kerry dismounted, bracing herself for a scolding about how careless she’d been to ride off without an escort and get herself kidnapped, probably crowned with a lecture about how untidy and dirty she was.

  She imagined Min Soo’s too-sweet tones saying, “Even without bathing water, a princess always finds a way to keep herself clean and lovely.”

  Min Soo reached her, beautiful in fluttering silks. There was no way she’d even touch Kerry, who hadn’t bathed in six days and wore filthy, sweaty riding clothes.

  Without hesitating, Min Soo embraced her. “My darling daughter,” she whispered into Kerry’s dirty hair. “You’re safe.”

  Surprised, Kerry patted her mother awkwardly on the back, afraid of wrecking her beautiful clothes. Her mother’s back seemed so small under the silk, so fragile. The floodlights gleaming on tear tracks marring her smooth face.

  Kerry remembered her promise to herself.

  “Mom,” she said hesitantly. “I wanted to tell you. You were right. I needed everything you taught me to escape from Las Anclas. Your lessons saved my life, and . . . um . . . I’m sorry I was so horrible to you.”

  Mom blinked fiercely, then gave Kerry a quivering smile. “I confess, sometimes I wondered if you were paying any attention. I’m so glad you were. So, even the rose petal sweets were worthwhile?”

  Kerry laughed. “They were. I never have to eat them again, do I?”

  “Never. They served their purpose.” Mom bent to offer a hand to Kogatana. “What a lovely rat. Now, let’s get you inside. Your father’s waiting. We want to hear everything!”

  As Kerry accompanied Mom into the palace, with her mother talking sweetly about ordering Kerry’s favorite foods for dinner, Kerry realized that her mother’s voice didn’t bother her. It was almost . . . soothing.

  Mom paused outside the king’s rooms. “Your father has had a difficult day. Nothing could please him more than your appearance. Why don’t I leave you to your reunion? I’ll order you a scented bath.”

  Automatically Kerry said, “I hate scent. No scent.”

  Mom’s smile was quick, but a little strained. What was going on? “I should have remembered. No s
cent.”

  For the first time in ages, Kerry said, “Thanks, Mom.”

  Her mother fluttered off. Kerry passed the guards, who stood stiffly, hands to their weapons. That was odd. They couldn’t be expecting a Las Anclas army to magically appear at the gates.

  Kerry barged into her father’s private study, expecting an even better welcome than Mom’s. The room was full of guards. Her steps faltered when she saw her father’s arm in a sling. She’d never seen him hurt before.

  Her gaze reached his face, and she froze. She’d never seen him this angry before, either, not even after the failed attack on Las Anclas where her sister Deirdre had died.

  “Father?” she said hesitantly. “What happened?”

  Santiago stepped out from the crowd, his face bruised and bloody. Kerry had pictured herself flying into his arms when they finally saw each other again. But neither of them moved. There was a strange, oppressive atmosphere in the room. Kerry fell back on her training and kept her face blank.

  Father smiled, but not the warm smile she’d expected. It was too thin, angry at the corners. “Welcome home, Kerry.”

  Kerry found herself babbling about how happy she was to be back. “. . . and they had me locked up in this horrible little cell. With drunks!”

  Father held up his hand. Kerry instantly fell silent. “Guards, you’re dismissed. Santiago, you can stay.” He glanced at Kerry. “If you like.”

  Kerry looked at Santiago, whom she’d thought about, worried about, for weeks. The happiness she’d expected to see was there in his quick smile, but his shoulders were tense, and the way he kept flicking sideways peeks at Father made her neck prickle. Something was terribly wrong.

  Kerry returned her attention to her father. “What happened to your arm?”

  “Tell her, Santiago.”

  Santiago rubbed his elbow. “Ross Juarez tried to assassinate the king. This little chunk of metal he’d been carrying around this whole time turned out to be a weapon.” Santiago pointed at the metal thing on a table next to Ross’s gauntlet, which Kerry had never seen off his hand. Her heartbeat accelerated as she recognized a twin to the weapon that Mia had been so proud of.

  Why couldn’t Ross have waited one more day to make a break for it? Kerry had counted on being able to make a quick report, ending with her promise. Father would set Ross free, and Kerry could drag Santiago to her room to catch up on weeks of missed kisses.

  “Was that how you hurt your face?” Kerry asked Santiago.

  He touched his cheek, and seemed mildly surprised when his fingers came away bloody. “It’s nothing.”

  “He protected me with his own body. I won’t forget that, Santiago.” Father was still smiling strangely, making her neck stiffen. “Let’s have your report, Kerry, then I suggest you get some rest. You’ll want to be fresh for the execution at dawn.”

  Santiago looked like he was about to throw up.

  Kerry clamped down on herself, showing no reaction. She had to keep her promise. But how could she possibly get Father to agree to release someone who’d tried to kill him?

  Father said softly, “Kerry?”

  Her nerves chilled. He whispered only when he was angry, and when he was angry, somebody always died.

  She began with her capture, in words she’d already thought out. Her heart thumped painfully, but she controlled her voice, her face. It was like her lessons about enemy interrogation, but the person she had to resist getting inside her head was her own father.

  The thought made her falter.

  Father’s eyes narrowed. Alarm spiked through her. “Sorry.” She flung back her hair, hoping there was still a trace of bruising around her eye. “When I think of that brute Tom Preston punching me . . .” She talked wildly about how much she hated him, and saw Father smile again.

  Always tell as much of the truth as is harmless—that was Father’s first rule of resistance. You could always remember the truth. Lies were hard to keep track of.

  Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she said, “. . . and so I promised Mia Lee that I would release Ross as soon as I got back. Then she and her friends helped me escape.”

  Father tipped his head back and laughed. “Excellent work, Kerry. I couldn’t have handled them better myself.”

  ‘Handled them.’ Kerry saw it then. Even if Ross hadn’t broken Father’s arm, Father would never have permitted her to keep her promise. To him, it was a clever ruse.

  Was this what happened to you, Sean? She was almost dizzy, the image was so vivid: her brother standing where she was now, and thinking the same thing: I have to get away.

  “When word reaches them of Ross’s execution, they’ll know what’s coming,” Father said, his teeth showing in that strange, angry smile. “I was going to ride to Las Anclas with an army to fetch you back, but I think you’ve earned the privilege. When you’re rested and ready, you can ride at the head of that army yourself, and take your own town.” He paused, clearly expecting her to be thrilled.

  Kerry presented him with a thrilled expression. “Father, I’m . . . Wow, I don’t even know what to say.”

  “I wasn’t much older than you are when I took my first town, but it was half the size of Las Anclas. You noted all its current defenses from the inside, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “It should take you a day at most. You can start your rule by mounting the heads of the team that captured you.”

  Kerry forced herself to grin. Her teeth felt cold. “I know exactly where to put them.”

  Father laughed again. It was the same laugh she’d grown up hearing. Even admiring. But it made her head hurt. Everything was wrong. The things she’d wanted her entire life sounded horrifying.

  I took my first town. For the first time in her life, she understood what that meant: killing people like old Mr. Hassan the beekeeper, Dr. Lee, Mia, and Becky Callahan. She imagined Brisa’s beribboned head on a pike. That was supposed to be something Kerry would enjoy?

  Her own father was the most dangerous enemy she’d ever faced.

  “You did like Las Anclas, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Stay close to the truth, she told herself. “I liked it fine.”

  “Did you get inside any of the big houses? I imagine Preston’s would make a good palace.”

  Kerry shook her head, trying to look regretful. She hoped Father couldn’t hear her heart clattering against her ribs. At least she had her breath under enough control that her voice had whatever inflection she chose to give it. “No, but I saw it from a distance. I liked the looks of it.”

  “Do what you want with his family, but save Preston for me,” Father said, still in that soft voice.

  “Absolutely.” And because his gaze was still narrow and watchful above that smile, she remembered another lesson: When they begin to doubt, ask questions. Act eager to learn. “How did you make them accept you as king, when you conquered your first town?”

  Father liked that question. His expression relaxed a bit. Kerry held her breath, alert to every change. “First, kill the leaders of the resistance. Show them the price of rebellion. In your situation, you should begin with this Jennie Riley, who disobeyed a direct order in bargaining with you. That kind of person can never be trusted not to turn right around and betray you, if the price is right. And any of her followers you think might be a danger . . .”

  Jennie? And ‘her followers’, like Mia? Kerry caught a gasp in her throat before it could escape. If Jennie and Mia had helped him, he’d be making pets of them this very minute. But in helping Kerry, they were weak and untrustworthy.

  Kerry’s indignant reaction turned to sick anger. Father was furious right now, so he might be saying things he wouldn’t if his mood had been better, but Ross would be just as dead the next day.

  It was always going to be like this. Always.

  She had to get away.

  If she left, she’d never be a queen. But she didn’t want the kind of power you could only get and hold by killing people. />
  She wanted to live where she could keep her promises, and not be afraid. She wanted to live where people didn’t have to worry about who might be listening. She wanted to live where you didn’t have to evaluate people only for their political usefulness. She wanted to live where commoners could yell at the ruler and get away with it. Much as she detested Tom Preston, at least he hadn’t ordered the deaths of any of those argumentative townspeople.

  I won’t do it, Kerry thought.

  In the time it took for her father to deliver his familiar lecture on the effect of executions, she had made her decision. She would not only run away, she would take Ross with her. And Santiago, once she figured out how to keep his family safe.

  Father’s lecture came to a close. Aware of his silent expectation, Kerry smiled at him. “You’ve given me so much to think about!“

  Now she had control of herself, from her smile, which she knew looked exactly like his, to her fingertips. Father was the enemy, and she was a prisoner about to make a break.

  I know what to do. You trained me yourself.

  “Thank you so much, Father. That was so helpful. You must be tired. I should let you go rest that arm.” Before he could reply, she exclaimed as if she’d just thought of it, “Oh. Would you mind if I saw the prisoner? I’d love to tell him my plans for his town.”

  Father laughed, then winced. The painkillers must be wearing off. “Certainly. He’s in the hell cells.” Father turned to Santiago. “You two run along. Santiago, I won’t forget how you protected me.”

  Kerry turned to go, then picked up Ross’s gauntlet as if she’d only just noticed it. He’d hate to lose it, she was sure. “I never got a chance to get a good look at this before. Look how beautiful the workmanship is. And so sturdy, too.” She tried it on, then shrugged and laid it back down. She must not give herself away!

  “Keep it. Maybe you can have it resized to fit you.” Father’s free hand touched his splinted forearm, and Kerry knew he wanted them gone.