by Aaron Pogue
"No," she said again. "Not now. The dying is over, Caleb. We did not bring these people safely through the nightmare of the dragonswarm only to throw them against the spears of the rightful king. We will meet with him."
Caleb dared not defy that pronouncement. Instead he turned his attention back to the gate. A moment later, a new sound broke the silence over the courtyard. It was the shuffling clatter-clop of a single horse moving at an idle walk. Even as I recognized it, a chill breeze sprang up within the courtyard and washed out through the gateway, gusting away the honey-colored dust still heavy in the air without.
It revealed a magnificent horse dressed in barding of violet and gold, and on its back rode the straight-backed, frail form of the king I had seen before. He wore the crown of gold on his head and carried a jeweled scepter in his right hand. It might have been shaped like a mace, but even draped in gold it was not heavy enough to use as a true weapon. It was a trinket. Unarmored and unarmed, he came alone into our fortress.
The horse walked unhurried toward the formation of shield-bearers. I saw all of them turning, nervous, throwing questioning looks back at Caleb. He growled under his breath and opened his mouth to shout an order.
"Caleb," Mother said, and he choked on his own bellow. "This is a matter for me to resolve."
"Give him ten paces and it's a matter for the pikemen to resolve," Caleb said.
Mother only shook her head. "You never truly listened, did you?"
The king reached the line of shield-bearers, and he did not slow. The front line automatically withdrew, respectful, opening a path for the king. The king never even glanced at them.
Caleb growled. "Oh, I listened. But I think Daven gave too much credit to the wizards' magic."
"There is magic," Mother said, "and there is politics." She stepped up beside Caleb, moving out from behind him for the first time, and he gave another disapproving growl at that. But he did not challenge her in public. Mother stepped forward once more, one pace behind the forward square of swordsmen, and she raised her voice.
"Your Majesty, we give you welcome. Come."
An irritated huff escaped Caleb's nostrils, then he barked, "Rest!" and every soldier on the courtyard fell to one knee. They moved with perfect precision, and I knew from my own training it was a move meant to clear a line of fire for archers in the rear. But here and now it looked like a grand show of respect.
For his part, the old king smiled across the courtyard. He raised a hand to Mother, and the scepter glinted in the sun. My mother went forward to meet him halfway.
I started immediately after her, but I made it less than a pace before Caleb slapped his left hand down and caught me in the chest. It stopped me hard and drove the breath from my lungs. "Not you," he said. "Get inside."
"But—"
He spun, fast as lightning, and took a knee facing me. Even kneeling he nearly came eye-to-eye with me. "This is not a suggestion, little prince. It's not a discussion. This is an order, and I'll do what I must to make you obey it."
I raised my chin. "I still do not answer to you."
"No one in your family does," he said. "But I am honorbound to see you safe, on oaths I've given to your father and your mother both, and I will not be compromised because you are too spoiled to see reason."
"This concerns me," I said. "This is my family. I should be with Mother."
"You should be far enough away that you do not distract her, do you understand? This is delicate business—"
"I do not answer to you," I said again.
"Wind and rain, boy, this is no game! Go now or I shall carry you myself."
I drew myself up, as much as I could, and tried to look unafraid of him. "I am not a child."
I got no farther. He rose to his full height, towering over me. He stabbed a finger past my shoulder, toward the tower. "I said go."
Some of the blood still staining his face fell in a great drop from his chin and landed over my heart, soaking through the fine linen of my shirt. I felt it, hot and sticky, against my skin, but I could not tear my eyes from his face.
"You cannot make me," I said. "I wish to go to my mother. I belong with my mother." I took a deep breath. My chest felt weak and empty, but I set my jaw and tried to step around him.
He slipped backward, still blocking my path. He moved with an easy grace, keeping himself always between me and my mother. I felt my temper cracking. "Move, Caleb! Get out of my way."
"I cannot," he said.
"Then I shall make you," I said. "Mother shall make you." I nodded to myself. I caught a deep breath, my eyes fixed on Caleb's, and shouted, "Mothe—"
He moved faster than a snake. His left arm flicked out—it looked almost casual—but the back of his gauntleted hand crushed into my face with astonishing force. I felt sharp-edged pain on my cheekbone and eyebrow, saw a flash of brilliant white light behind my eyes. I coughed in shock and surprise. I stumbled back and caught the heel of my boot on the lowest step of the marble platform.
I fell. The whole left side of my face throbbed and my vision in that eye went blurry. But I could see well enough the hundreds of swordsmen close enough to have witnessed it. Fire flared hot and sudden in my chest—anger and outrage and humiliation—but before I could give voice to any of it, I saw my mother.
She stood by the king's horse, half a hundred yards away. Her eyes were fixed on me, drawn by the sudden commotion. For a long heartbeat I met her eyes, and she must have seen my tears. I swallowed hard. She would come for me now. She would chastise Caleb and comfort me, in front of all these eyes, and my humiliation would only burn hotter. I steeled myself for it.
But she did not come. Instead her gaze flicked briefly to Caleb who still stood looming over me. Then she nodded in approval and turned back to the king.
That betrayal stabbed sharper than all the rest. I scrambled to my feet. I almost lashed out at Caleb, but I remembered how easily he had knocked me to the ground. My face still throbbed, and my vision was getting worse. I blinked and felt the tears touch my cheeks. My breath lay heavy in my lungs. If I stood here a moment longer, I would be crying in front of all the assembled soldiers in my father's fortress.
Caleb's gaze never wavered. He had done this to me, but he showed no sympathy, no remorse. He only stared after me, cold and cruel, until at last I turned and fled.
2. The Politics of Court
The Tower of Drakes rose in ten floors above the courtyard, each of them nearly a thousand paces across. The outer doors gave entrance from the marble platform to a small antechamber. From there another pair of doors opened onto the Great Hall that filled the heart of the first floor.
But arches in the left and right walls of the antechamber both gave access to the wide, curving stairs that climbed to higher floors. I rushed to the stairs on my right and up past the barracks, past the library, past the servants' quarters. My legs burned with the effort and every heavy beat of my heart pressed new pain against my bruised eye.
I moved from the stairs at the landing of the fifth floor and took the long left-hand corridor that bent right with the outside curve of the tower, then threw open the fifth door on the left. I slammed it hard behind me and slung myself full-length upon my mattress on the floor.
My breaths were coming ragged, my heart still hammering with shame, but I heard a little sound within the room that made it worse. I forced myself to turn and found Toman waiting patiently against the outer wall.
He was about my age, maybe even younger, but he was tall and wide across the shoulders and strong as an ox. And he could be astonishingly quiet. I'd only noticed him there because he wanted me to.
Now he nodded. "Good morning, Taryn."
I hated that he'd seen me like that, almost sobbing, but at least it wasn't Jen. She would have been cruel. Toman would pretend not to notice. He was kind enough, even if he had been set to spy on me.
Then I remembered the lie I'd told Caleb. I sighed, completely miserable.
"Good morning, Toma
n. I owe you an apology."
"I don't believe you do."
I rolled my shoulders and looked away. "Caleb caught me on the wall. Without you there."
"Then I believe you owe Caleb an apology. Or Lady Isabelle."
"I owe Caleb nothing."
He cocked his head. "Indeed? He is a good general."
"He is arrogant and stubborn and casually cruel!"
"Not cruel," Toman said, calm. "Perhaps severe, but this is no time for gentle men."
"How can you defend him? Don't you understand? He beat me in front of the whole militia! In front of the king! And you know he's going to punish you for my...choices."
"No. He'll reprimand me for failing in my duty. A good soldier—"
"Is not a nursemaid! Toman, don't apologize for having more useful things to do than watch over me."
He shrugged. "Vigilance is much of my responsibility. Will you tell me how you escaped the library?"
"Will you keep it from Jen?" I asked.
"Not if it could mean your safety."
I sighed. "It doesn't matter, she'd find it anyway. There's a missing shelf among the histories, tall enough to squeeze through once I moved the books. That let me into the records nook—"
"And from there into the war room and down the outer stairs while Jen was watching the central spire."
I swallowed hard. "She's going to be mad."
"She would be furious, but her watch ended while you were still pretending to study the maps. I saw you there when I took over."
"I'm sorry, Toman."
He held my gaze. "Why?"
"I never meant to embarrass you."
He cut me off before I could say more. "That's not what I mean. My failure is my burden. I will carry it. But why do you work so hard to defy your mother's orders?"
"You ask too much—"
"I don't think I do," he said. "You wanted to apologize. I will not accept it until you answer me."
I looked down at my hands just to avoid his eyes. What could it hurt to answer? He'd already seen my shame. And if he understood—if someone in this tower understood—perhaps I'd have some chance at fixing what was wrong.
"The king is here," I said.
"I know."
"He came here to speak with Mother. Or maybe even Father. As fractured as things are, the king may not know my father's...."
"Gone."
I nodded. "Gone. But now the dragonswarm is over, now it's safe to leave the City, and he has come all the way to the Tower to reward us for our service."
"But he brought an army."
"Of course! A show of splendor only increases the honor."
Toman frowned. "Didn't he attack the outer gates?"
"I...I don't know. Caleb didn't let me stay to hear his speech. Perhaps...perhaps it was just his recognition that the gates are no longer necessary."
"That seems unlikely," Toman said.
"What else could it be? We stood against the dragonswarm and bought humanity's survival by our courage. The king and all his armies, all his wizards, could only cower in their fortified cities and pray for it to end. But Father fought back."
"The way I heard it," Toman said, "the king was not a great admirer of your father's army."
"That was long ago," I said. "But Father built a bulwark for humanity, and drove the swarming dragons back to their dark slumber. The king cannot ignore that. He'll extend his gratitude for the role we served."
"And that's...why you disobey your mother?"
"Yes! Because the order is unjust! She wants me out of sight, so who will take my place? Caleb. He'll go to meet the king. He'll stand by Mother's side with Father's blade slung on his back. Forty-thousand men outside the gates, a king and four wizards and six noblemen there in the Great Hall, and Mother—modest Mother—will push all that honor onto Caleb."
"Ah," Toman said. "You think it should be you."
"It should be Father, but he's ten years gone. So why not me? Why should I not meet this king? Why should I not share the glory?"
"Have you asked your mother?"
I scowled. "She will not tell me. Caleb doesn't want her to explain."
"Does she defer to Caleb? She's the Lady of the Tower."
"Even so. Sometimes I think it. And I think he hates me for it."
"Caleb? Hates you?"
I drew myself up tall. "Yes! Because I alone within the fortress do not scrape and bow. I alone do not love our warrior hero. He resents me for it."
"I...do not think you know Caleb Drake at all."
"I know him well enough. And by tonight, all the king's retinue—Green Eagles and wizards and all—will bow down in gratitude for the service of the Tower of Drakes. And I will not see it. That is how Caleb punishes me."
Toman frowned. "I do not think you know the king at all."
"How could I? I will not be there. Caleb will be there. Standing like a king before the FirstKing's heir. He will stand at Mother's side and receive the praise earned by my father's hand."
The words rang with all my indignation, and for a long moment Toman only stared.
Then he licked his lips and looked away. "This is quite a complex...understanding...you've found."
Before I could answer, Jen's voice cut in. "And every word is nonsense. Haven's name, Taryn, you're such a child."
Even at the best of times Jen's voice sawed against my spine. Right then I was so mad I could have hit her. Or...I could have tried. But Jen would knock me flat as easily as Caleb had. Even with two extra years of age, the girl was no bigger than me, but she was fast, she was sure, and she was ruthless.
She was Caleb. Two-thirds his height, one-third his weight, with fair skin and short blond hair. She looked nothing like him, but she was Caleb. She'd been training with him even longer than I had, and he hadn't even blinked at naming a girl as one of his new knights.
Now she breezed through the door as though she owned the place, and I noticed she'd had time to change since this morning. She wore loose leather armor dyed a deep green with a simple short sword on her belt. I scrambled to my feet, unwilling to let her tower over me.
How much had she heard? I'd been attacking Caleb, and this girl worshipped at his feet. I had to stop her warning him.
"Listen—" I tried, but she cut me off.
"I've heard enough. Toman, you're relieved. Caleb wants you in battle dress, now."
"Battle dress?" I cried, indignant. "Are you all going before the king?"
Jen showed me her teeth. "One way or another."
"You can't really mean to fight him! He's the king."
"This is my home," Jen said. "These are my people. As far as I'm concerned, he's just a stranger in a fancy robe."
"Those are dangerous words," I hissed.
Her eyes glittered like a viper's. "Less dangerous than yours. I only insulted a king. You insulted Caleb Drake."
"That...that was said in confidence."
"Anything you say to your knights, you say to Caleb."
"Jen, please—"
She smiled at me. "We have a responsibility, Taryn. If we're going to look out for your family's safety, we cannot keep secrets between us."
"But—"
"I'm sorry, Taryn. I really am. Because I can promise you Caleb will not take this well."
"That doesn't much sound like you're looking out for my safety."
She shrugged. "Sometimes you have to lose some minor engagements to win the greater war."
"Whose knight are you, Jen? Mine or Caleb's?"
She didn't even think about it. "Caleb's."
I opened my mouth to retort, but she turned away as though I'd disappeared. "Go on, Toman. Battle dress, then find Caleb. He's probably in the war room. Give him a full report."
"What?" I shouted. "Toman, don't!"
He shrugged in mute apology, then left in a hurry.
I caught at Jen's sleeve, "Jen, please—"
"I've heard enough," she said. "Keep at it and I'll black your other eye."
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I relented, too afraid she meant the threat. She glanced around the room, sniffed, then slipped out into the hall to watch my door. I dropped back on my bed and buried my head in my hands.
What had I done? A rage had stoked my fires until I wasn't really thinking. Now I tried to remember what I'd said to Toman, tried to guess how much Jen had overheard. But that didn't really matter anymore, did it? She'd ordered Toman to report it all to Caleb, and Haven knew he would.
I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders, relaxing bit by bit. It didn't really matter. Caleb tortured me already. How much more could he do? My imagination rushed to offer answers that left me feeling panicky again. Jen alone could make me rue my hasty words.
And that was wrong. It wasn't fair. This was my home; this was my father's stronghold. I shouldn't have to live in fear of his footsoldiers. Crying wouldn't solve my problems. Nor would arguing with Jen. No, I needed to meet with Mother. If I could just speak with her alone, without Caleb there to interfere, I could show her the injustice of it all.
I almost grinned. The bruises on my face would serve me well. She'd seen him restrain me, but she hadn't seen how violently, how disrespectfully. She could never condone this. I jumped to my feet, ready to go searching for her, when Jen rapped once on the door and threw it open. Before I could respond at all, Mother drifted through into my room.
She looked regal today, in a way I hadn't been able to notice in the chaos down below. Her dress was big and blue as the summer sky and trimmed with pearls and beads of silver. She wore a necklace and bracelets and three small rings, all matching silver and pale blue amethyst.
I remembered her comforting hand in mine, and I couldn't quite connect the memory with the figure standing before me. She didn't look like the sort of person who gave hugs. She looked like a queen in a portrait, some still, distant figure of proud beauty.
From across the room, I could see the reproof in her eyes. "Taryn—"
"Mother, we need to talk of the king."
She shook her head in a short, sharp gesture. "I cannot believe the risks you took today. What if Caleb had not been there when the gate came down? What if you had fallen from the wall? What if a fight had truly started?"
