by Trisha Wolfe
I’ll soon have information, and possibly a bartering chip with my dark goddess.
♦ 8 ♦
Kaliope
“WHERE’S BAX?”
My question lingers uncomfortably in the air as the Council members look to Julian, and Julian sends a pointed look at me.
Julian clears his throat. “Protector Kaliope,” he begins, and I already know where this is heading. “We’ve discussed this before—”
“No,” I interrupt before I can think better. Tonight’s happenings have me coiled tight. “You ordered his removal at the last meeting, and I ordered him right back. There was no discussion. I thought we had an understanding after that—Bax is one of our most important sources and allies. He has more knowledge of the Otherworld than anyone at this table and”—I narrow my eyes at Julian—“I trust him. He’s my friend.”
What I leave unsaid but is understood is that Julian Paynebridge is not, and I trust him about as far as I can throw him. Although that saying really isn’t accurate; I could toss Julian pretty damn far given the chance.
I’m surprised when Councilor Herna is the one to speak up. She adjusts her vissa display, positioning the glass display more comfortably over her eye. “I happen to be in agreement with the Nactue leader,” she says, and every person in the room looks to her. “Prince Caben is not…himself. And the Otherworlder can only enlighten us on what we’re up against.”
“It seems we know perfectly well what our young prince is planning,” Councilor Wilkin, one of the Perinyian Council members, says. His gaze moves between reading the screen of his own vissa display and the people in the room.
He takes his time, adjusting his dark blue robe at the collar before he continues. “He’s been possessed by the demon goddess herself. He wants, or rather she wants, total domination. Although I was inclined to believe the goddesses were a thing of our very distant past, it seems they are rather vigilant in gaining our attention once again.”
Julian scoffs. “Caben would’ve been the first to toss out this ridiculous notion.” He zeroes in on me. “Have we completely ruled out the possibility that she had something to do with Caben’s transformation? I mean, of course, other than the word of her friends and one mutant mongrel.”
The legs of my chair scape the floor, sending a screech echoing through the room as I stand. My fist slams the table. “I will not rehash this with you again.” My breath stutters in my chest as adrenaline builds in my veins. Pulling my fist back along the table, I allow my sleeve to drop, covering the swirl of mercury on my wrist. I don’t hide it anymore—but I don’t purposely temp questions from others, either. “I’ve told you the truth of what happened down there. And not one of the people who survived that bloody Reckoning feels the need to lie for me.”
“Protector Kaliope.” It’s Empress Iana’s voice that breaks through the haze of anger wrapping me. I feel her soft touch on my arm, and she guides me to my seat as she says, “We are all outraged and frightened over the happenings of tonight. But no one, regardless of status, will accuse my protectors of deceit.” I’m gloating until she adds, “And there will be no more outbursts.” She levels me with her amethyst eyes.
Embarrassment flushes my face. I feel like a scolded child, and maybe I deserve as much. Only I know my empress. She’s wise beyond her years; she has to see through Julian’s guise. Regardless, all of this is a waste of time. The real issue is what just occurred—the raid. And that is truly the reason for my anger. The fact that no one is insisting we trail the Otherworlders as they retreat, and track down Caben.
Empress Iana already corrected me once when I voiced my willingness to do just that. I suggested taking a number of protectors and a couple of the newly recruited Nactue—but my idea was quickly shut down. The empress reminded me that we’re in a foreign country, and the Perinyians are in charge of their affairs as far as what to do about their prince.
As I look around the room, the only person I feel is actually concerned about their prince is his cousin. But only in the sense of taking over his rulership.
I can feel the mercury in my blood rush to the clamp in my chest—the cybernetic device engineered to keep it away from my heart. It’s heated and fueling my resentment as this knowledge burns me from the inside. If not for disrespecting my ruler, I’d bolt from the room. A waste of time.
After everyone is settled and assured the unruly women of Cavan aren’t going to attack anyone, Julian tries again to sway the room. “I believe including Bax in matters that pertain precisely to the Otherworld is his only need. Otherwise, our council is best kept private.” His gray eyes pin me, saying more than his words. I’m not to discuss anything in this room with Bax.
I simply roll my eyes. Let him try to issue a violation against me. I’m still protected by the power Caben invested in me—his ring. It’s the one thing that has assured my word. To remind Julian of this, I thumb out the chain from beneath my shirt collar and run the pad of my finger over the cool red jewel in the center of the ring.
A thought hits me, and I wonder why Caben didn’t demand his ring right away when he had the chance. Though he’d have come up empty handed, as what he really wants—the crystal shard to the relic that was tucked behind the jewel—has been removed. Empress Iana now keeps it hidden behind a diamond in her crown. Caben needs the shard to restore the goddess relic. Without it, the relic is useless to Bale.
“Now,” Julian continues, assuming he’s made his point with me. “Let’s discuss how to deal with the matter at hand, shall we?”
The three Perinyian Council members nod, and I look to Lilly, confused. Maybe Julian is finally going to suggest something useful, like going after Caben, after all.
“Tonight’s show of youth and ignorance on the Nactue leader’s part is why we were unsuccessful in capturing Caben…Bale. Instead of presenting her inside knowledge of Caben’s intentions to try and sack the palace, she took it upon herself to set a trap and lead not only her protectors, but Perinya’s army as well, right into battle. Unprepared and unawares.”
The mercury is lava in my veins. My mouth falls open, ready to unleash on Julian when I feel Empress Iana’s hand rest atop mine under the table. Her touch is so light, it’s as if the Goddess Farrah herself works through her. I don’t know whether to feel honored or averse.
“Considering the time constraint,” Empress Iana says, “I think Protector Kaliope did everything possible to handle the situation quickly and responsibly.” The tightness in my chest eases some. “It was a surprise attack. How would you have handled it differently, Julian?”
My gaze snaps to him as I wait to hear his response. I’m relieved I didn’t lose my temper. The empress’s wisdom will do a much better job than my arguing with the dimwit.
He pushes his cape over his shoulder and sits back, lacing his fingers together on the table. Racking his brain, I’m sure, for a reasonable response. “I’d have issued the reserves to deploy, as well. Protector Kaliope did well there. But instead of waiting for the Otherworlders to breach the palace, and actually allowing them to do so, we should’ve ordered the reserves to surround them from behind, coming in from the woods. Had the Cury-crafts descend on them and capture Caben’s vehicle before he could tunnel under.” He raises his pointy chin.
I glance around, noting each of the Council members nodding slowly as they process Julian’s plan. Even Councilor Herna looks agreeable, which is rare. And if I didn’t already loath Julian so much, I might admit his strategy could’ve worked. But it might have failed also. There’s no way to be sure.
Was I only focused on Caben? On finally seeing him?
I don’t want to doubt myself.
But I do understand one thing: with a failed military plan, someone has to take the blame, and all other plausible options are then considered the better, should have done ones. It’s politics. The part I dislike the most of my burden as the Nactue leader.
“Your idea very may well have ended up fruitless, with no capture of th
e moon goddess,” Councilor Wilkin states. I’ve never heard either of the other Perinyian Councilors’ opinions. They seem to discuss things amongst themselves, and Wilkin is their collective voice. “But I agree that I’d have preferred a plan that did not involve the Otherworlders breaching our walls. That was reckless, and disrespectful to Perinyians as a whole, on Protector Kaliope’s part.”
My stomach drops. Since I first took office in Caben’s absence nearly five months ago, I’ve done nothing but consider his people—their laws, their wellbeing, their safety. I’ve tried to do and act how I believed Caben would, make decisions based on the man I knew and respected, and cared for his country like my own. It’s painful to hear how little his council thinks of me, but I know it’s more Julian’s sway than anything else. He’s been determined to see me fail from the beginning.
Before I speak, this time, I consider my words carefully before I allow them to leave my mouth. I’m working up an apology that doesn’t come across as weakness (despite my newfound love for Caben’s people, I still can’t accept how they view the woman’s role), when Julian blindsides me. “I move to have Protector Kaliope removed from her position.”
A thick silence slices through the room, then, “Is this the only grounds for your dismissal, Julian?” Councilor Wilkin’s asks.
“No, it’s not,” I say, finally finding my voice. It’s rough and scratchy, and my head is starting to pound in sync with the annoying wall clock. All eyes are on me. “He desires to have me removed on the grounds that he wants the throne…and not temporally.” I lift my head higher.
Councilor Herna catches my attention as she subtly nods, and I’m surprised by the agreeable curve of her lips, the pride in her gaze.
“That’s a bold accusation, Protector,” Councilor Wilkin’s says. “Do you have any proof that this is his intention?”
Hell. Can’t they see what a slimy snake Julian is? I guess I can’t come right out and say that, though. Sometimes I feel like my days trapped underground, battling savagely, has stripped me of much of my empathy. Or maybe it’s just that after living through it, I have no patience for issues that seem so trivial. Nearly everything compared to my days down there seems minor now.
Again, I feel like sitting in this room, scrapping over the remains of Caben’s crown, is a waste of time. One thing alone will put an end to these meetings and debates and power struggles.
Bringing Caben back.
And I’m finally understanding that won’t happen as long as I’m here.
I roll my shoulders, releasing some of the stress, and say, “I trust the one person who was given authority before Prince Caben instated me.” I glance at Empress Iana. “King Marcus entrusted our empress, and I believe, if I’m found wanting in my role, it’s best to reinstate the late king’s wishes until the prince is returned to us.”
From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Julian’s disdain to this proposal. But it’s not within his power to object if I desire the empress to swap places with me. Honestly, I don’t even understand why the Perinyian Council has given this ass any remote power at all. If Caben had trusted his cousin in the least, he’d have given me a very different request, asking that I make sure his beloved cousin Julian was issued his throne. But not one syllable of Julian’s name was uttered before Caben decided to sacrifice himself in the Otherworld.
“That’s a noble gesture,” Councilor Wilkins says, bracing his creased hands on the table and pushing to a standing position.
Empress Iana follows his lead, decidedly bringing this useless meeting to a close, and says, “My Nactue are noble, thank you, Councilor.” She hangs her head a moment before she continues. “But at this time, regretfully, I have to refuse this honor. In my weakened state, I am no longer able to extend my rulership between two countries; Cavan must be my first concern.”
Solemn nods of understanding circle the room, and despite myself, I do agree, feeling embarrassed for my suggestion. Empress Iana is still too weak to take on the welfare of two countries, both at war. One trying to rebuild its capital after the Otherworlder attack.
“But,” Empress Iana adds, calling the attention of the room once again. “I must comply with the Perinyian Council. Cavan mustn’t have too much of an interest in Perinya’s rulership. I speak on behalf of King Marcus when I nominate Julian Paynebridge to continue in my stead.”
And when agreements come from all members of the Council, I glance at Lilly, her eyebrows furrowed. Though I can’t help but notice she looks slightly relieved. I wasn’t meant to be a ruler, this I know. But how can Empress Iana nominate Julian?
Betrayal and worse, disappointment in my leader, consumes me.
What I am meant to do is now clear.
I’m done here. I’m going after Caben.
♦ 9 ♦
Caben
WHY HAVEN’T THEY SENT their scouts yet?
This is the question that annoys me, wondering just what my Council and my sultry Nactue leader are up to.
Stuffed away in my treehouse fortress, I ponder this question and a hell of a lot more. Bale has random ideas, theories, as to why we were allowed to escape and why no one chose to pursue us. Even now that we have something of value. One: They fear us too greatly. This, above all, I’d love to believe, if I were at all naïve. Pride for my country still sways my judgment.
Two: They believe we’ll strike again, and this time, they’ll be more prepared.
This one I choose to accept as the more logical reason. Truth is, once the combined numbers of both the Perinyian army and Cavan’s protectors are set against us, we have little chance of winning. Defeating a force of that magnitude would take more power than even the dark goddess can muster, at least in her current state.
That’s why our strategic attacks on units have worked thus far. And why we’re always the first to retreat. Test their forces and retreat. Test and retreat.
Churning, churning; crushing, crushing. Relentless. Always these thoughts crippling me. Bale has been pleasantly quiet these past few hours. Probably still furious over my discovery and pouting. But still my own thoughts bully me. Beat my will into submission. And what is my will anymore?
The deeper I plunge into the moon goddess’s realm, the more difficult it is to be decisive as to what I—just me, no other—truly desire. Power. Yes, there’s always that. But what after? Will the lust for power ever be sated?
I shake my head instead of answering my own questions. I haven’t gone completely mad. Yet.
Madness is only the first step toward genius.
And like an ill-timed migraine, my dark mistress returns.
“Just what is our next move, your evilness?” I barrel out a laugh. “I doubt a search party is going to be sent.” Not for this one. Only one person will make it her personal quest. I suppose I’m counting on that.
Lure the girl to us. You know what must be done.
On cue, as if he heard the goddess himself, the Otherworlder bucks and squirms against his restraints. The chains rattle with each of his guttural moans. His pale face is a shade too white, contrasting the bruises and scrapes, the beating he took, during our invasion on the palace.
“Always an outsider, huh, Bax?” I ask, advancing toward the wall of windows overlooking the cove. “You were an outcast in your own realm, and now you’re an outcast here, again, among your own people. What, did you really think my country would accept you?” I chuckle. “That Kal would? That maybe she could help you establish a place among her people?”
With a jerk, Bax fights the shackles, his forehead wrinkled in anger over his gnarly eyebrows. I turn my back to him. “You’re a traitor on all counts. What other outcome did you expect?”
I anchor my palms on the window ledge and watch the waves crash, swallowing the shore, pulling the sand into the undertow. Down. Down. This could go very wrong. I wanted…something to bring Kal to my door—a taunt, a bribe, anything. But her mutant friend, who she cares for greatly, might be a step too far.
Fear is for the weak.
I roll my eyes. Sometimes the dark goddess makes me laugh outright with her clichés. But what should I think? She’s been underground for over a century. Hardly able to keep up with the times. And she probably was the very first being to utter such phrases. Best try to keep that thought to myself. Even I know better than to mock a woman about her age.
I’ve lost my train of thought. Oh, yes, but when Bax was presented to me, chained and bound, an offering from someone who has a vested interest in seeing Bale restored, I couldn’t turn down such a perfect plan. I knew Bax would be the key to getting at Kal.
We suspected—Kal and I—back in the dungeon of the Otherworld, that there was a traitor in Cavan. Someone high up, in position to access privileged information. Bax had told Kal as much back then. Though he didn’t know exactly who it was at the time. Well, I suppose he does now.
Even I was somewhat shocked to discover the Councilor waltzing up to my legion of Otherworlders like she had nothing to fear, Bax in tow. Making a bargain with the moon goddess, through me, to have her place in a new society when Bale ascends. It was ballsier than anything I’d have done in her place. Maybe.
I figured it was a setup. A military unit waiting in the tree line, ready to pounce, as soon as I let my guard down. Wouldn’t they have noticed one of their advisors missing? And right after an attack—wouldn’t that have looked strange? It had to be a trap.
But here we are, Kal’s mutant confidant in our company, a chess piece ready to be played. I wish, not for the first time, that my thoughts were my own. I’d like to go over this strategy thoroughly before I make my move, without Bale feeding her lines into my head.
Once Kal knows we’ve taken Bax hostage, she’ll come for him. She may have been skirting the idea of hunting me down before this, but she’ll make it her personal mission now. The only question is, will she come alone or be able to convince others to join her?
Glancing back at Bax, his dreaded hair, the silver rings in his face, I decide not. Neither Council—Cavan or Perinya—will go out of their way to save him. Even if he did prove himself an ally to them, he’s still considered the enemy. A liability, probably. And my new collaborator assured me no one will vote for a rescue mission for one Otherworlder.
