by J. A. Comley
“Just bringing your breakfast,” a soft, male voice said, moving to where the torch light fell on him.
Starla tried to wipe the look of horror from her face and slipped the bracelet back into her pocket.
“Forgive me, I was lost in thought,” she told the hunchback, her voice a little hoarse from thirst. She moved out of the shadows and into the flickering light to claim the bowl. “Thank you.” She smiled up at him.
He stared back for a moment, nodded, and then continued on his way, his leather clad feet making no noise on the stone floor. Even the trolley he pushed made no sound. Starla wondered vaguely if the exhaustion was dimming her senses.
Starla wolfed down the grainy porridge in the torchlight. It didn't taste familiar, but was welcome all the same after three days with no real food. An earthenware cup held some water.
Would the Guardians manage to get to see Astria? Starla knew they would at least try to convince the High Lord to let them see the Queen. He would listen, wouldn't he? Starla shuddered as she remembered the maimed teenager in the square.
They'll manage. Gaby wouldn't leave me here. She wouldn't leave the Star here, anyway.
Time began to mean nothing in the constant dark. Water dripped slowly, somewhere deeper in the dungeons. At some point Starla crept back to the deep shadows at the rear of her cell and gave herself up to exhaustion.
***
Raoul was watching her, a mixture of sadness and betrayal in his deep brown eyes.
“You left without me.”
His voice echoed unnaturally. Starla tried to speak, but found that no sound would leave her mouth.
“All my life, I have loved you.” Sadness and pain laced every word. “But you lied. You broke your promise. You abandoned me.”
Starla began to run towards him, knowing that if she could just reach him, she would be able to explain, everything would be all right. Fire sprang up between them, its heat scorching Starla's flesh.
“Raoul!” Her own voice startled her as it suddenly returned.
His face was contorting in pain, his screams wrenching her heart.
“You abandoned me in hell! All because you couldn't love me!” His voice shook with agony. “But I … I still love you. Always.”
Starla was falling, even as she tried to reach Raoul as he howled in pain. Falling. Falling.
Starla shook violently on the cold stone floor of the dungeons. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up straight.
It was a dream. Just a dream. She repeated that over and over. She looked up at the far wall. All a dream. But Raoul was there, looking out of the darkness, eyes still tortured, lips moving in proclamations of love that echoed down the dungeon tunnels. And someone was laughing as Raoul cried out in pain again.
She jolted upright, still trembling, to the empty, firelit dungeon in which she had fallen asleep.
Starla clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobbing as it racked her body. She tried furiously to banish the nightmare from her mind, with no real success.
“Oh, Raoul,” she sobbed. She hoped again to get home soon so she could explain everything. It would still hurt him and he wouldn't understand most of it, but at least he would know that she hadn't run away, hadn't broken her word. And if she managed to find the answers to her past, then they wouldn't need to travel. She could take the time that he had promised her; she could marry him when she was ready to.
Her tummy growled half-heartedly. A new bowl filled with more porridge sat waiting. Slowly, she ate it and drank the last of the water.
The sound of sliding metal and then heavy footsteps sent Starla into a near panic and she tried to staunch the flow of fresh tears.
The Guardians have succeeded. She needed to concentrate now. Give Astria the amulet and ask about her family. Rya had mentioned that the Royal Library has a population registry. Surely the Queen would allow Starla to search it. Then home to France.
Briefly, she wondered if anyone there would even believe her. She shook her head in dismay. Probably not.
The heavy footsteps had stopped. Only two sets continued towards her, one whisper-light and the other ringing as if the person's shoes were soled in metal. The undefined babble of conversation echoed down the tunnel towards her.
Wiping her face dry on her grimy nightdress, Starla checked that the Star was still safely hidden from view and then got unsteadily to her feet. The footsteps were drawing closer. Making sure her hood was up, she crept forward until she was right against the bars.
Tilting her head, she listened carefully as the sound of male voices bounced off the stone walls. The sounds soon became distinguishable, if only in fragments.
“—out of line—” said a deep, strong voice.
Starla fought the urge to creep back into the shadows. She recognised that voice. The High Lord. He sounded angry.
He'll just be coming to escort me to the Guardians and Queen, she told herself firmly, even if the idea made her stomach clench with fright. Her reaction made her uncomfortable. She shook her head, sadly. I've never judged another person by what others said or thought of them. I'm not going to start now. Her jaw locked with determination. She would judge for herself who and what the High Lord was.
A raspy voice answered, “—had to be done … betrayal … Guardians couldn't … about the Queen … only option is execution.”
Starla stopped breathing. Execution! Surely they hadn't executed the Guardians?
They're practically immortal, anyway, Starla reminded herself, sternly, but she grew cold a moment later as she realised that they might be speaking about her own sentence.
She tensed, ready to move back as the footfalls came within yards of her cell but they stopped short. The ringing steps were almost painful as they echoed back down the tunnel. The two men were close enough, now, for Starla to hear every word.
“The King will hear of this, Braxton. You are not the sole authority on these matters. If anything, you should have no authority at all. You cannot exile the Sacrileons without a proper trial!” the High Lord said, clearly trying to control the volume of his voice.
“Can't?” The other man laughed, though it held no humour. “It is already done, Larkel. The King has been notified and will see matters as I did. Simple. They broke his command not to enter the city then cut the power to the Stones. They betrayed us.” His words had a cadence to them that made Starla sure that he was smiling.
His voice reminded Starla of many of the old men in Arreau who had smoked their whole lives, ruining their vocal cords, making their voices sound harsh and rasping.
“You acted alone. That, in itself, can be seen as high treason,” the High Lord began, clearly unamused at this Braxton's self-importance. “Also—”
“I,” Braxton said, interrupting the High Lord, “have an obligation, as Baron of Galatia and Royal Advisor to the King, to do all that is necessary to protect this land. The King will see things my way, especially because I did not act alone.”
Starla thought the raspy voice held a note of vindictive pleasure.
“All prisoners of Galatia, no matter their crime, are given a chance to speak. That is the law,” the High Lord said after a moment. His earlier note of patient control was gone.
“I let them speak, but all they said was that they would speak to no one but Astria. We both know that wasn't going to happen, so why waste the King's time? As for any explanation they might have offered regarding their Stones' failing, I had no desire nor time to listen to lies, Larkel. Verelios Beams do not work on Sacrileons, as you well know.” He shifted his weight. The sound of metal scraping on stone made Starla cringe. “Exile for the Sacrileon traitors and execution for their accomplice. All threats dealt with effectively. We are losing this war. We have no time for niceties with traitors.”
“Threats?” the High Lord continued, trying to instil patience into his tone. “Listen to yourself, Baron Malion. The Sacrileon Guardians were not thoughtless. We, thanks to you, now have no idea what even brought them to
the City. And there is no proof that they cut the power to the Stones. And this girl, we don't even know who she is. We need answers, Baron. She must be given the chance to speak.” His voice had become compelling, though still hard.
Hearing all this, Starla had slumped against the wall. Her only helpers, exiled, without a chance to explain themselves to the Queen. She had listened intently as the High Lord defended her right to plead her case.
Girl? Starla pulled herself straight again. She was an intelligent woman. All I'd need would be a private word with the Queen.
She stifled a derisive snort. As if they would ever allow a convict to chat with the Queen, alone.
Maybe if I can convince the High Lord … She almost laughed at herself for the foolish thought.
“All I am saying is that now is not the time for rash action. What happened last night poses an immense and immediate threat to our nation. We need to understand what happened and why.”
“Understand?” the Baron's voice rasped in amusement. “I think this puzzle is simple to put together. The Guardians were helping this girl get to the Queen, where she was to assassinate her, or find the proof necessary to seed chaos.”
The High Lord made an exasperated sound, clearly disagreeing.
The Baron continued in a harsh, condescending tone, “Larkel, Larkel. I knew the King had made a bad choice in allowing you to be High Lord but I at least thought you were intelligent. Don't you see? The Guardians were to create a distraction by cutting the power to the Stones and then, in the following chaos, this girl was meant to slip in and kill the Queen. Perhaps you defend them so vehemently because you were complicit? That would certainly explain why so few Makhi were around to deal with the wave of Corruption attacks that followed.”
Starla swallowed her anger and fear. They thought she was planning the murder of the Queen? The man's attitude also made her pause. He didn't seem afraid of the High Lord, at all. Rather, his tone seemed to hold only contempt.
“Ridiculous. You are simply hiding from the fact that you have no evidence for any of those claims,” the High Lord's deep voice boomed down the tunnel, all command and fury. The power in it made Starla want to cower against the wall. The Baron must be either very brave or very foolish to remain unmoved by the raw power that charged the air.
“Our investigation into how the Stones lost power is still ongoing. And when my Makhi caught them, all of them were heading for the Outer Wall, not the Tower Wall. In fact, the King should postpone this woman's trial until such time as we have all the information,” the High Lord finished, his voice ringing with finality.
At least I've been promoted to 'woman'. It might make them take me a little more seriously, Starla thought wryly, racking her brains for a way to get them to listen without breaking her promise.
The Baron laughed, unperturbed. “You grasp at straws, Larkel. If we wait, she could plot to escape. I intend not to give her the time. And as to her true motive, when she realised all was lost, she sent another in her place. Why else would she have sent that brown feathery thing to the Queen's private house? No, Larkel, D'Ordeley's men captured that creature breaking in to the Queen's residence. You can't deny it. At least that was taken care of effectively.”
“Aimee!” the word burst from Starla as guilt crushed her. Why didn't I tell her to fly for the forest? Why?
Both men were before the bars in moments. Starla shrank back into the shadows of her cell, thankful for her hood, which hid most of her tear-stained face. The High Lord looked weary, but the sharp light in his eyes defied the dark circles beneath them.
Chilled by his cold gaze, she looked at the other man. He had sleek, light-brown hair combed back in a short tail and hard, carved features. His entire body gave the impression of immovability. His eyes were a dull grey, but intelligent above his slim nose and thin lips. He stood a head taller than the High Lord. He wore a bronze, embroidered smock and trousers of deep green. A red belt of seven stars worn over his richly-embroidered clothes marked him as a higher nobleman. His emotionless eyes were fixed on her mouth. They lost focus as if he were caught up in some unpleasant memory, his hard features seeming to crumble.
“What has happened to my sparrowhawk?” Starla whispered, her voice turning flat as she strove to keep it from trembling, more tears sliding free of her eyes.
Her voice snapped the Baron out of his reverie and he flashed a triumphant smile. “You don't even deny it. Your beast is dead. Execution is a common fate for traitors.”
Starla stiffened. The man sounded as if he were mentioning the weather. As if a life meant nothing. She pushed the crushing emotions away, hardening herself. She had to fight, now. Powerful though the Baron may be, she would at least get the court to listen. She knew the High Lord hadn't missed the solitary tear that had fallen, glistening in the torchlight, as the Baron had spoken. Defiantly, she stood straighter, squaring her shoulders. Starla watched a small smile appear on the High Lord's full lips, melting some of the ice in his eyes.
“Actually, Braxton, the creature escaped the High Commander's men. And this woman will be given a fair trial, under Galatia's laws. I have seen to this myself.” His deep voice was still hard as ice and just as cold.
Starla felt relief wash through her.
Aimee had escaped! She's fine. She's free.
Suddenly, her knees felt weak and she was glad of the support of the cold wall behind her. The Baron's face lit up with rage, the first real emotion Starla had seen on him, his hands balling into fists. Scurrying footsteps sounded down the corridor and the Baron cut off his string of profanities. A boy of about twelve appeared before them. He wore a red tabard over his yellow smock and an orange belt marked him as a page or messenger boy for the nobility.
He bowed deeply. “High Lord, Baron Malion, the King has ordered your presence before the trial of this prisoner. He awaits you in the Throne Room. The trial will begin in one hour.” The boy motioned stiffly towards Starla.
“One hour? All is set for the trial?” The High Lord sounded as anxious as Starla felt.
“Yes, High Lord. All citizens, guards and Makhi have been questioned. The witnesses are prepared to testify. The King wishes this dealt with quickly.” The boy's breaking voice squeaked higher several times, causing him to blush.
“But our investigations are still ongoing. If the—”
“Enough, Larkel,” the Baron interrupted, his dead-pan stare slightly restored. “It is troublesome enough that we are to waste the King's time with this pointless trial.”
“The King has asked to receive you first, Baron,” The pageboy added, ignoring the tense atmosphere that surrounded the men. He bowed again.
“Of course.” The Baron motioned for the boy to lead the way, giving the High Lord a lethal smile. “Tell me, boy, who will be escorting this prisoner to the trial?” he asked as they walked up the tunnel.
“Five of the Commander's captains, Baron.”
“What! Well, I will just have to—” the Baron's voice trailed beyond hearing.
Starla released the breath she had been holding. The High Lord was shaking his head. Turning silently, he made to follow the others. Starla's heart thundered in her chest. Forcing down her fear, she opened her mouth.
“Wait.” Starla stepped closer to the bars, shifting her hood back a little. “Please, High Lord,” she added, giving her best curtsy, before remembering belatedly that she was meant to have bowed at the waist. “I … thank you. For informing me about Aimee.” He paused in the shadows, his pale skin looking bright in the dim tunnel.
Larkel looked back at the cell. The woman had stepped within the circle of light given off by the torches. Her grey dress was ugly and filthy, even appearing burnt in areas. Strands of dirty, golden hair peeked out from under her hood, curling down around her equally dirty and battered face. In fact, she appeared to have half-healed cuts and bruises on every piece of skin he could see. But it was her emerald eyes that captivated him. They held a level of intelligence and strength
he had not expected.
“You are welcome. I don't stand for cruelty. What is your name?” He turned completely back to the cell, noting how she held herself with quiet dignity. Despite her situation, she wasn't giving up.
His words caused her eyes to widen slightly. She looked almost afraid but a moment later, the look was gone, her face calm and determined again.
He fought the urge to laugh bitterly. She had been in the City for only a short time and yet it seemed she had already heard at least one horror story involving him.
“Starla, my Lord.” She paused, as if debating whether it was worth asking the next question. “High Lord, did … the Baron, he mentioned execution. Can I actually be—?” Her voice was soft, expectant, only trembling slightly at the end.
Larkel look her over again, this time with the help of a very simple, yet effective, spell. He couldn't sense in her the Corruption he had sensed in other spies of Kyron. Still, he had to be sure.
“Yes,” he answered softly, stepping right up to the bars.
The woman hands trembled, but she nodded, eyes full of fire, not fear.
The High Lord hesitated. This went against protocol, but her demeanour made him curious. Death obviously terrified her, yet she stood ready to fight.
“Give me your hand,” he commanded, slipping his own halfway between the bars.
Starla took half a step back, searching his face. He resisted the urge to pull back into the shadows and focused on simply looking intent on following through with a decision. He knew the power that radiated from him would never allow him to seem non-threatening. His strong hand waited patiently for hers.
“Why, my lord?” Starla asked. She seemed confused but took the last step forward, nonetheless. He watched her eyes as a debate seemed to take place within them, before they settled. She had reached her decision. No need to inform her that she hadn't really had a choice. He was merely being polite.
“I need to be sure you are not a spy. And don't bother lying. I can always tell, if I am connected to the person,” he added as she slowly laid her delicate, if grimy, hand in his. He gripped it firmly. “Now, this may feel a little strange.”
