by Janeal Falor
“Still.” I grab the plate of roast chicken and vegetables off my tray and smell it before tasting it. “This is fine. And now yours.” I hand it to him.
He doesn't take it. “I can't eat it. It belongs to you.”
“Not anymore. I know it's safe.”
With a sigh, he takes it. “You know, I really should be tasting your food for you, not the other way around. Or hire a tester for you.”
I just grin at him.
“I'll eat this when your food comes.” He sets the plate back down and clears his throat. “Thank you for trusting me again.”
I nod, chest tightening.
“We'll find him.”
Daros. “Not if he doesn't want to be found.”
“How can you be so certain?” Nash asks.
“Because I lived with him my whole life.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Your entire life?”
“Yes.” The word comes out fainter than I meant it to.
He reaches out like he's going to take my hand before jerking his arm back. “I can't imagine what that must have been like.”
“Not good.” I lean forward and take his hand. He might not want to hold mine, but I need the contact. He tries to pull away, but I stop him. “Are you pulling away because you don't like me?” I ask.
“How could you think that? No. I'm pulling away because of the law. I'm not supposed to touch you.”
No one is. “I don't care. No one's here. No one can see. I want to touch you.” Need to.
“We shouldn't.” But his voice is wavering.
“Please.” That word hardly ever comes out of me. “No one ever comforts me. At least give me this little bit.”
He pulls away again, and this time I let him, a tear ripping through my heart. Until he stands, bends down, and wraps his arms around me. It can't be a comfortable position for him, but for me, it's perfect.
It makes me close my eyes, to revel in his arms. His warmth. It's soothing in a way I'm unfamiliar with. It brings the kind of peace I haven’t felt since Daros escaped. I need Nash with me. Need his strength.
The knock sounds again, and I groan. Nash gets the tray. When he turns around, he grins.
My heart flutters.
“Should we eat?” he asks.
“Only if the food isn't poisoned.” I laugh.
He makes to take a bite. I jump from my seat and whisk the piece of chicken from his fork with my bare hand. I take a small bite before he can stop me. “It's good,” I say, not detecting anything.
He gives me a look. “You shouldn't have done that.”
I suppose it wasn't very queenly of me. I shrug, put the chicken back on the plate and return to my seat.
He settles in next to me, and we eat our food in silence, though with many stolen glances. It’s a nice sort of silence, the kind that is calming and perfect.
Once lunch is over, I put my plate on the low table nearby. “There is something you can do for me.”
“What's that?” He puts his plate away.
“We should fight.” I stand, kicking off my heels.
“On a full stomach?”
“You have to be ready to train at any time.” It would be nice if we could ask for a training room, but seeing how we’re not supposed to touch and we do that a lot when we fight, I don’t trust that no one would see us.
He shakes his head with a laugh. “Honestly, I'm not sure I'm ready to be beaten by you again.”
“Then don't let me get my hands around your throat.”
He sighs. “At least you took your shoes off this time.”
Together, we push the table back. The rest of the furniture is out of the way. I don't give him any warning. I dive for his thigh. Before I can get there, he jumps out of the way and brings a knee up to my hands.
I bounce back, startled. “No one's ever pulled that move on me before.”
“I didn't think it would work.”
“It won't, next time.”
He laughs.
When I come at him, I don't stop when he backs up against a chair. I swerve to the side, jump up on the chair, grab his shoulder to keep him in place, and hop on his back. I wrap my legs around his waist as he attempts to pry me off.
I shiver from touching him. I wouldn't want it any other way, so I cling to him as hard as I can and enjoy the feel of his back against me.
He drops to the floor and rolls over, sending me gasping for air. When he rolls again, I don't have enough strength to hang on. I curse myself for getting lost in the feel of him, distracting me from my original intent.
I attempt to sit up, but he pins me to the ground. I grin, loving the warmth between us. “Very well done.”
“You're going easy on me.”
Maybe, but not for the reasons he believes. I'm not sure I even understand the reasons fully.
When neither of us moves, he says, “You give in?”
I giggle and squirm. “Not happening.”
I go limp, and the pressure from him eases a little. I take advantage of the moment to slip out from under his arms, brushing my hand against his bicep as I climb on his back again.
He grunts. “I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have.” I squeeze myself onto him, not letting anything get past. Nothing will distract me this time. Even if he does smell good.
I lock my arms around his throat, remembering the first time we fought together. It sends waves of thrills through me. What I wouldn't give to stay like this for a long, long time. Well, maybe not on his back, but with him.
“You should never let an opponent get on your back like this,” I say.
“You're telling me,” he gasps out.
He falls to the ground again, trying to roll over like he did the first time. I cling to him. When I don't fall off, he rolls a few more times until we're at the edge of the room, near some chairs. I breathe in deeply, letting his scent fill me, even as I tighten my grip.
“How do you always stick to me like this?” he gasps out again.
Because I never want to let him go. I don't say it aloud, though. I don't dare. It's not worth jinxing. Or worse, being rejected.
He pounds the ground three times, and I let go. “You give up?” I ask.
He catches his breath. “How can I not? It's either give up or pass out.”
I look him square in the eye, ignoring the pounding in my heart. “Never give up.”
“I won’t.” His words come out a whisper, and I know he’s not talking about the fight.
We climb to our feet. He stretches.
“You fight well,” I say.
“I lost.”
“You fight well anyway.”
We stare at each other. His hazel eyes have a sparkle to them that wasn't there before. I take a step forward.
“I should go,” he says.
“Oh.” I step back. “Right.”
He turns around when he reaches the door. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“Just say it.” I'm eager for his words, whatever they may be.
“I had fun with you.” He hurries from the room, with me grinning at his back.
Chapter 6
The city lies before me in a glorious array of flickering lights. My city. My people. My country.
Sometimes it's easy to forget about the people outside Indell. I've been to other cities in Valcora, but most of my assassin work was done in Indell. It's such a huge, sprawling place, but there are other cities out there too. Other people that need more help than lower taxes.
I watch the soldiers on the wall surrounding the palace. They all do their jobs, paying strict attention to the outside of the walls away from the palace. They keep us safe.
A guard turns around, the torchlight from below casting an eerie glow on him.
Daros.
I shrink back into the shadows, willing myself to become invisible. My heart gallops, knife blades cutting into my gut. When I look again, the guard looks nothing like Daros. He
calls to a man below him on the grass. The two converse for a moment, and then the guard turns back to his job. I can’t believe I thought it was Daros.
But he's out there.
I have to get my mind off him and do something more useful. I walk farther from my room more toward the center of the building, but the memories are still flooding me.
He had me by the throat—choked me for not coming down to his office directly when he asked me to. I sputtered for air, willing it all to end one way or another.
He pulled out his jeweled dagger, the one with precious gems along the hilt. He caressed my cheek with the blade, the cool metal biting into me without cutting. He did the same to the other cheek, and then shoved me away with a laugh. I stumbled to the floor.
When I glanced up, all I saw was that dagger. What would he do to me next?
A cool breeze whips across my skin. I pull myself from the memory, quivering. There's no point in reliving those moments when they haunt my subconscious all the time.
I wander around the roof, getting my bearings of this part of the palace. More like giving my mind a task to focus on. Once I have a better handle on things, I shimmy back down to my room. There is still a lot to explore, but there are always other nights.
I change into some nightwear and climb onto the bed that always leaves me feeling spoiled. It's much too nice for someone like me, but here I am, anyway.
It doesn't take long to fall asleep.
The First Queen is waiting for me. “You lowered taxes for some and raised them for others.”
“Was that the wrong choice to make? What do you think?” I bite my lower lip. I’m more relaxed around her than when she started visiting my dreams.
“I think the Poruah and Medi will appreciate what you're doing for them.”
“And the Kurah?” Not that I expect them to be happy, but it’d be nice if they were content.
“Time will tell.”
“That's not helpful.”
She sits there, serene as ever.
“Why do I dream of you, if this is all the help you're going to give me?” I plop back into a seat that isn't there.
“I want you to learn for yourself. I'm here to guide you.”
“Is that why the last queen, Deedra, raised taxes? Because you only guided her?”
“Deedra was different than you. She needed different things. You're the most straightforward queen this country has ever seen.”
I'm straightforward?
She chuckles. “Very much so.”
Funny, since I'm used to evading everything.
“Yes, it is. You hide what you want well, but you don't always wish to.”
No. I didn’t. “Tell me something I should know about changing laws.”
“You're changing the subject,” she says, but lets it go. “You're going to have to deal with the council. They don't approve the laws—only you do that—but they'll be put out that you didn't consult them before making this change.”
“They will be, won't they?” I sigh. I remember being on the roof. Of thinking I saw Daros.
“Your thoughts are straying to him again. Why do you let him hold so much power over you?”
“You can dive into my memories. You tell me.” It's hard not to be annoyed.
“Not those memories. They are like a fortress against me.”
Thank my daggers. It's hard enough, dealing with them, without talking to her about them.
“You really should talk to someone about those times. You'll feel better.”
I don't respond.
“As queen, you have to be better. You're above everyone else. You need to let go of your feelings about Daros. About killing the last queen.”
There's a prickling behind my eyelids. “It's not something you get over. I killed her. I killed many.”
“I know, but it wasn't your choice. It was Daros's. He had you trained so you would do anything he told you to.”
Maybe. Maybe not.
“No maybe.” Her voice is stern. “You had very little say in the things he had you do.”
Until I killed Deedra and couldn’t live with myself anymore. I don't want to think about it, let alone talk about it. There is something, though. “If you are with all the queens, how come you didn't know I was the one who killed her? She saw me before I…” Stabbed her.
“You were in disguise.”
“But you didn't recognize anything about me?”
She studies me. “I should have recognized your eyes. But before, no. I thought any familiarity was due to your drinking the Mortum Tura, since you now had part of me running through you.”
It's so strange that she is a part of me now.
“It used to be strange for me too, but no longer.” She shrugs.
“You've been guiding queens for how long?”
She smiles. “It’s time to wake up.”
Chapter 7
I sit on my chair, and the council follows suit. Nash's presence next to me is warming. Feeling him near reminds me of the hug he gave me. The kiss we shared.
I want more of that.
“Queen Ryn has called us all together to discuss the new tax laws,” Nash says.
The council focuses on me. I wish there was a window in this room. All I get is pictures of Valcora.
“What I would like to know is why you did it without consulting us first,” Timit, the Head of Treasury, says. His chins are a sign of wealth and prestige, but all I see is a man who wants to get his way.
The First Queen was right. I should have spoken to them about it. I just wanted to make it happen. Of course the Head of Treasury is not going to be happy with my choice. He never seemed to like me before, and his scowl indicates it's worse now than ever.
“Because,” I say, “I'm ready to make that change for the people. I felt that telling them would be the best thing to do, to give them hope. To have them feel better. I'd like you to oversee the tax changes, Timit, and report back to me directly.”
He puckers his lips like he ate something sour. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I, for one, would like to commend you,” Yuka says. Her sleek black hair is pulled away from her face. “Though it's customary to speak with the council first, you didn't have to, and you made a lot of people very happy.”
I give her a soft smile but don't go so far as to thank her in front of everyone.
“It was a stupid move,” Kada, Head of Relations, says. “How are we going to continue funding everything, the necessities? Even with raising taxes on the rich, it's not going to be enough.”
I shrug trying to ignore the sting of her words. Daros was harsher, but being queen, I’d think they’d treat me better. “We'll use less.”
“Less?” Timit practically screeches.
“It won't be hard to do. For starters, we can close down parts of the palace. It's much too big to utilize in its entirety.”
“That would be a wise move,” Mina, Head of Foreign Relations, says. Her fringe of red hair makes her stand out.
Now I have two people on my side. I smile at her as well.
“Fine,” Timit says. “We'll use less of the palace, but anything else is not to be stood for.”
Fickle man. “We’ll do what we need to. If you don't like it, you're welcome to continue voicing your opinion or even leave, if you can't help it.”
He clenches his jaw but says nothing further.
“Are there any other objections?” I ask.
“I'm not necessarily for it or against it,” Jaku says, “but I would like to know how we're going to continue to pay for the men who guard you and the palace, and those who keep the peace across the country.”
Good thought, though we did raise taxes to cover such a thing, I need to be certain. “Is there not enough to cover that with the new changes?” I focus on Timit.
“I will have to look into it.”
“You can report that back to me soon. We have to keep the basic needs of the government running—the guard, the militar
y… We have mines of gold and precious gems. Where is all that wealth going?” The people—they need protection. I won't have them going without. “I'm sure we can make adjustments, to keep things going as they should.”
“And what about the arts?” Yuka says. “I am for the changes, but we want to keep our culture.”
“And food, of course. We have to continue to produce or purchase enough for everyone in the government. Can't do that without money.” Nidon, the Head of Food, has a weight greater than Timit's somehow. I’ll never be lucky enough to be like that even though I’m Queen now. I spend too much time exercising to gain that status.
“We will make sure everyone is taken care of.” Though I'm not sure how. “We'll make sacrifices, but we can't ask our people to make those sacrifices on our behalf. They're suffering too much. We need this country to flourish, not drown in misery.”
For once, they’re quiet.
“Thank you for coming,” I say.
I stand, and they all jump to their feet, though some not as fast as others. Nash and my escorts follow me out.
As we walk through the halls, back toward my rooms, Nash says, “That went well.”
“You think so?”
“I do. You have a knack for caring about what’s important.”
Funny, since I spent so many years not caring. I thought it was tortured out of me. Maybe there's hope for me.
Chapter 8
It’s been several days since the council meeting, and I haven’t heard back from Timit. It’d better not be because he’s finding problems with the tax changes.
My ladies-in-waiting are gathered in my sitting room. Jem has taken the far chair again, with Inyi next to her. The rest are spread out in different seats than before. It makes it harder to remember their names, but I try. I've been practicing in my free time.
I get right to business. “How are the people handling the change in taxes?”
Jem surprises me by looking thoughtful instead of irritated. She surprises me more by answering. “The people I visited with were the lowest class. They have nothing but good things to say about you.”
I'm shocked she went to speak to the lower class. But how much do I know about Jem, anyway? Only that she's been hostile to me since I arrived. That Borkus, Ranen, and Faya thought they could control her as the queen. That she tried to help me, though it seemed begrudging. Until now.
