by A. M. Deese
Kay knelt down beside Wallace. His face was covered in blood. She touched his shoulder, but he didn’t turn toward her. When she found Udo she would make him pay, she would.
—Pain exploded at the black of her head and shot into the back of her eyes. She fell forward, struggling to blink the world back into focus.
She recognized Udo’s boot as it came into view, just before it shot toward her chin. She flew backward and landed on her back. She gasped, choking in a strangled breath. Where had he come from? What… Udo grabbed her throat and raised her up. She wanted to struggle against him but she was in so much pain that all she could think about was dragging in her next uneasy gulp of air. Udo pressed a wet cloth to her face, covering her mouth and ears. She saw his wicked smile, and then she saw no more.
Chapter Thirteen
JURA
Someone pulled on her leg. She snapped out of her slumber, her reflexes lethargic as she shook off the last of her dream. The pressure on her leg grew tighter. She looked around the room, seeing no one, yet an ever-widening sense of panic forced her to sit up. There was no one in the room. What’s on my leg?! She threw the covers away from her body and let loose a strangled gasp at the gigantic snake that was tightly coiled around her leg. She kicked and jerked away from the bed, stumbling for her bedside table in search of a weapon of some sort and calling for help.
Her Arbe burst into her room. In a few seconds the snake was dispatched with the flash of a scimitar, and she collapsed against her bed frame, breathing heavily.
Someone had put a snake in her room, in her bed. How? Was it poisonous? She asked the question out loud and her Arbe shook their heads. She suddenly remembered reading that venomous snakes didn’t usually constrict their prey. The fact that it wasn’t poisonous did little to calm her. The snake had been nearly as big as she was and if she hadn’t woken when she did, she might have had the life choked out of her. She swallowed. Well, it wasn’t the first time in the last week that someone had almost killed her, at least this time the effort hadn’t come from her father. He was still locked away in her cellar and wasn’t responsible for this scare. So, who was? Perhaps it was her father’s Chain Master or any member of the Thirteen. Maybe it was even Tylak. He’d seen the way she’d reacted over the snake in the dungeon, and his disappearance the other night proved he wasn’t trustworthy.
She wasn’t mad. She assured the Arbe before sending them out to dispose of the vile creature. She’d always hated snakes. But no, she wasn’t mad at her Arbe. They had saved her. Hadn’t they? But that still left the question. How did someone manage to get the snake past them and into her room?
She watched her Arbe leave and released a heavy sigh. She should have expected the attack. She had been foolish to let down her guard, even for a second. She was First Interim now. Everyone wanted her dead.
She opened the cellar door to check on her father. He squinted back at her.
“Do you want some bread and some figs? It’s my normal breakfast. The kitchens won’t send me anything else.” Why am I apologizing? A man should know his daughter’s preferred breakfast. Just as she knew he preferred fried egg and strong tea, foods that were never sent to her chambers. She had tried to bring them from his chambers but had run into too many servants who still had their tongues. She wanted to make sure no one suspected her father was anywhere except holed up in his room. A member of his Arbe ate the First’s meals throughout the day. It was working for the moment, but people were beginning to talk. Jura had attended every court activity aware of the questioning eyes and the whispering voices.
“Father, please say something. Tell me who’s done this to you.”
She’d spent the better part of her free time pouring over research books and her great-grandfather’s journals in hopes of discovering clues about her father’s predicament. She’d learned very little.
Blood chains were created hundreds of years ago by Gregor the Great, or Terrible, depending on which history book you read. The man was responsible for several battles and the start of the Border Wars. The Border Wars were a series of battles over the borders of Kitoi and the seven kingdoms of the Sand Sea. Though none of the books explained how, they all agreed that Gregor originally developed the blood chains for his soldiers. He discovered that a soldier wearing a blood chain did not tire and kept toward his goal with a single-minded obsession. They followed their master’s orders to the word. Generals could be hundreds of miles away, and the soldiers would follow their every command. He soon had an army of unstoppable soldiers. Gregor’s reign of domination lasted for forty-three years before he was killed by Josper the Usurper, Jura’s own great-grandfather.
Though originally known as an usurper, he was also remembered as a bringer of peace. It was Josper who united the kingdoms and Josper who suggested the system of the Thirteen for the seven ruling kingdoms and the six ruling merchants. The kingdom was united, and Josper signed treaties with the Is’ Le Sp’Ar islands that were ruled by the Sea King and the kingdom of Kitoi, which sat on the outskirts of the Sand Sea. Her great-grandfather had seen no use for the mighty, unstoppable soldiers and had demanded that all weapons be destroyed in an effort to embrace their time of peace. The histories only outlined the stories of war, and even though her great-grandfather’s journals made note of blood chains, there was no mention of what had happened to them. So how did one end up on father?
Her father ate her breakfast and drank the water greedily, but he wouldn’t tell her anything about blood chains. He wouldn’t say anything at all. Jura wasn’t surprised by this. He’d been locked up for a week now, and aside from the one time he’d lunged at her, they hadn’t had any interaction.
She closed the First back up in her cellar and searched out her spectacles, prepared to spend the rest of the morning going over her research books and Josper’s journals. She didn’t need the spectacles except for reading but found it easier to keep them on rather than waste valuable time searching for them. She was grateful to find them on her nightstand where she’d left them the night before. Good thing my Arbe had acted as quickly as they had. The tiny spectacles would have made a poor weapon against the snake. She shuddered again before perching the glasses on her nose and reaching for an old history book.
There was little extra information on blood chains. One book suggested that her great-grandfather had kept one of the chains for posterity but that could not be confirmed. If it was true, the location of such a chain was gone before Jura had ever been born. Yet another history book was proven to be a dead end.
Her level of anxiety shot upwards. The council meeting was at the end of the week and Jura had just three days to discover who held her father captive. Well, who held him captive aside from herself. The council would not stand for her excuse another week. She knew that they were plotting against her house. She didn’t need a snake in her bed to prove that. It was logical. It was expected. Her family had been the First house for two decades, and while some respected her father, he was also hated. The house position as the First was vulnerable, and Jura would be wise to expect attacks until the day of the meeting and next vote.
She had spent much of her time hiding in her room. She hadn’t even bothered to seek out Markhim. It was hard to push away the strong sense of disappointment she felt in herself. Father would be aghast. She showed weakness by hiding away. If nothing else, the snake served as a bitter reminder that she was a fool for thinking she’d be safe in her rooms. It was time to put her books aside and take action.
The next three days were full of court social functions. Their purpose was to entreat allies and strengthen or weaken one’s position. If Jura continued her stand-off behavior, the house of the First would appear weak and their Rank would be questioned. Jura refused to let her father down and resolved to appear strong over the next few days. In order to do so, she had to drastically change her behavior. She could no longer be a scared little girl hiding in her room behind dusty old history books.
She went to her hal
l to send for a handmaiden. She frowned in consideration. Her Arbe always seemed to sense when she was coming. And yet, they hadn’t noticed someone leave a snake in her room. Did that make them suspect? What had she read about Arbe? It was something useful… She hated that she didn’t have a photographic memory and vowed to look for the passage later.
A handmaiden arrived and helped her dress. Most girls her age wore dresses with sheer floor length wraps that still allowed their intricate dresses to shine. Her own body was woefully disappointing in a dress. She was too short, too thin, and had no curves to speak of, so Jura refused to wear them. Instead, she preferred the simplicity of modest robes. She chose a robe at random. It was a pale, shiny blue with tiny purple flowers sewn along the neckline and at the hem. She paired the robe with soft gray trousers and a blue tunic that was made especially for the robe. Her hair was brushed until shiny and pinned back into its traditional braid, the accepted hairstyle of an unmarried woman in society.
She left her rooms, Arbe in tow, just before high noon. The first social function was a luncheon at the home of the Third. Jura was actually looking forward to this function. Hosted by Amira’s father, the two were sure to have time alone to catch up, and Jura missed her friend.
She kept a watchful eye out, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary. She still had to find something useful to present to the Shadow Dancers. Yet another reason she couldn’t hide away in her rooms. She was running out of time and failing miserably at her quest. It had been four days since her encounter with the Prince of Shadows and she hadn’t learned any gossip or secrets worth repeating. If anything, she was only more confused. Were they watching, eager to see if I hold up my end of the bargain? And just how did they envision me fulfilling the bargain anyway? Jura knew they couldn’t want her for her skills as a spy. It made more sense to use her position to pass a new law or to gain a new alliance, yet both notions were impossible. Jura failed to hold any real sway over the Thirteen. She was a filler for her father, nothing else.
She arrived at the house of the Third and found that her anxiety rose instead of lessened. She’d been to her friend’s house several times before and thought the familiar surroundings would help calm her. Instead, she fought to calm the wild beating of her heart as she felt all eyes on her.
Like her own tower of the palace, the tower of the Third was made up of several large rooms, all with walls made out of the customary thin glass. The rooms were circular, the tower reaching out into the sky and the room was emblazoned by light from the sun. To the far side, a darkened stone hallway extended out, housing the stone rooms of the Third and his two children. Jura’s own quarters were identical, with the exception of the large courtyard that housed her gardens. Everyone in the palace had more or less the same home, the palace constructed out of fourteen tall spherical glass towers. They varied in size, Jura’s home was the largest while the Thirteenth was the smallest, and at the center was the massive domed tower that housed the Everflame. Council meetings were held off to its side, just to the north of the inextinguishable flame.
The tower was crowded, filled with not only members of the Thirteen, but also merchants and traders from the various provinces of the Republic. Several tables were set out, covered with deep purple linen and laden with food. The Third had even hired acrobats, probably from the arena, and the group of entertainers performed twisting stunts and juggled fire. Jura stood frozen in the doorway. The glass walls gave her no place to hide, and the heavy sun had her in an instant sheen of sweat.
Why is everyone looking at me?
“Wow, you’ve certainly caught everyone’s attention. They must all be wondering where did you get your robes?” Amira exclaimed as she sauntered over. “But I know you’ll only tell me,” she whispered confidentially.
Jura smiled at her friend and took a deep breath. So, she hadn’t just imagined their stares. She’d known this would happen, but had still failed to prepare for the sensation of being watched by all. Focus, Jura. She took Amira’s hands in greeting and kissed the smooth tan skin of her friend’s cheek. She pasted a smile on her face and stepped further into the room.
“Where’s your father? I want to thank him for inviting me.”
Amira nodded enthusiastically. “He insisted. Father has been great. In fact, he wants to speak with you.”
Amira’s eye’s sparkled mischievously, and Jura found herself grinning back. Amira’s joy was often infectious. Amira wore a gown in pale yellow cotton. Tiny stones were beaded along the plunging neckline, and the gown hugged her figure and just barely prevented her bosom from escape. Her eyes were lined with khol and her lips smeared in red. Jura had never actually seen her friend without any makeup on. Jura had tried to line her eyes once. She’d gotten khol in her eyes and they had become red and inflamed. It had been a miserable experience.
Unaware of the scrutiny from her friend, Amira grabbed Jura’s hand and dragged her across the room. The girls paused every time someone acknowledged her or Jura. Many called out to her. The sound of “Greatness” or “My Lady First” rang in her ears and Jura struggled to make eye contact with them all. She wanted to appear strong and capable, but with the beautiful Amira tugging her across the room, she felt awkward and clumsy.
Her nerves fluttered wildly, and she felt the familiar pull of hunger that occurred whenever she was anxious. She grabbed a pastry stuffed with leafy greens and goat cheese and stuffed it in her mouth in hopes that it would still her rumbling belly. She immediately regretted the decision. What if she got greens stuck in her teeth? Soup would have been a better option. She frowned over the passing trays laden with food, but Amira yanked her along before she could make any further selections.
Amira’s father, Ahmar, stood in the center of the dance hall. Though not a dancer, he liked to be in the center of the action and stood talking to Velder, Dahr, and Geedar. Jura gulped, councilmen from the Second, Third, Fourth, and Sixth, all together.
Ahmar smiled at her warmly. “Amira, I see you’ve brought your friend.” His fingers intertwined and his thumbs wriggled toward her. “Daughter of the First, you grace us with your lovely presence.”
The others nodded politely and Jura wriggled her thumbs in response. “Elders you flatter me. My father will be pleased to hear the house of the First has been treated so well during his absence.”
“How is your father?” Velder asked, stroking his long mustache and smiling down at her tiny frame.
“Recovering daily,” Jura replied with a tight smile. “I have confidence that he’ll be himself before the next meeting.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Ahmar put a strong hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’m sure I speak for everyone when I toast to his health and pray to the Everflame for his fast recovery.” Ahmar raised his glass and the rest of the group followed suit. Geedar and Dahr somewhat awkwardly, while Velder stared at her in appraisal.
Jura inclined her head in thanks and allowed herself to be led off by a chattering Amira. It was nice of her friend’s father to stand beside her as he did. He must want an alliance with her house. Jura considered the possibility. It made sense. An alliance to one of the top three houses made her house more powerful and secure in it’s Rank. A necessary trait, considering her father’s absence and her family’s tentative hold as First. Her father would have never felt the need for such an alliance. He oozed power and authority. But Jura needed the strength another house could offer. In fact, an alliance would be to her house’s benefit, and Jura was surprised that she was just now realizing this. She could have secured her house’s position days ago. Engaging an alliance might spark her father’s anger, but it was a chance she was willing to take.
Amira handed Jura a glass of muddled wine and clinked her glass with hers, smiling at her friend. “I have something to tell you.”
“Oh? Well out with it then.”
Amira shook her head, smiling wide. “I don’t know, Jura. It’s really supposed to be a secret.�
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Jura frowned, “So, why even bring it up?”
Jura gestured for a member of her Arbe. A tall, silent giant appeared at her side in seconds. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Please fetch the red leather book with gold lettering.” The Principals of Alliance. Jura hoped she had time to study a chapter or so on proper alliance etiquette before she approached the Third.
She watched the member of her Arbe walk away and noticed that he stopped for a moment in front of the other members of her Arbe. He held up a fist in front of his chest before leaving the room. Was he saying goodbye? Paying them a sign of respect? Jura had never seen members of an Arbe trying to talk to one another before, but she supposed they did. Perhaps it was something that happened fairly frequently. She really needed to find that book and reread that passage. The idea nagged at her and she was staring off at her silent statues when Amira brought her back to the present.
“—and you don’t even care.” Amira pouted, pursing her vivid red lips out and stomping a slippered foot.
Jura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Don’t care about what? Have you ever noticed anything odd about your Arbe?”
Amira did roll her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation. “Father forbid me from telling you and here I go telling you anyway and you don’t even respond, so it’s like you don’t even care!”
“Tell me what?”
“About Antar!”
Jura cocked her head to the side. “Your brother? What about him?”
Amira placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You really weren’t listening? Father proposes an alliance between our houses. He suggests a betrothal between you and Antar! We’ll be sisters in real life!” She grabbed Jura’s hands excitedly and hopped up and down. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“Antar? You’re brother? Antar.”
