Ashes of Revival (The Abdicate Series Book 1)

by Alex Shobe

  Some people must recognize Aiden, though. He rides at the front of our group, guiding us to his destination. Eyes peer at him, then dart back to the rest of us, no doubt silently questioning his safety.

  One set of eyes are set on him with utter disgust. Brows screwed up, eyes narrowed, lips fixed in a fragile line that they almost disappear. A man stands in the doorway of his home, staring at Aiden as he rides by. Aiden doesn’t look straight at the man, but I can tell he’s trying to steal a glance. The man grumbles something then retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. Aiden’s shoulders relax and he sighs.

  Colton shifts his horse forward, so he and Aiden are riding side by side.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  Aiden nods. He keeps his eyes focused ahead of him. “Garret’s house is this way.” He turns his horse onto a secondary path.

  We stop in front of a two-story home, its structure like every other house in the village. Empty flower boxes hang outside each window with the ghost of floral decor that used to be. The home is offset from the others and with the straight trunks of the aspen trees that surround it, it almost looks as though the home itself is imprisoned.

  Aiden enters the house alone while we wait outside. I look over as Merethe graciously rubs down her horse’s neck and Skylar massages his thighs from the trip. I suppose the great Coyote isn’t accustomed to traveling by horseback. A smile nearly wriggles along my lips but vanishes when Colton comes to stand by me.

  “How are you doing?” he asks. “You haven’t said much on the way here.” My heart aches a bit. Unintentional or not, my muteness hasn’t gone unnoticed.

  “I’ve just have had a lot on my mind.” I don’t tell him that I’ve been tearing myself up about keeping things from him and the others. About lying. No, not lying. I’m omitting the truth—there’s a difference. He nods and doesn’t press me for further details.

  “Can I ask you something?” I bite my lip and focus my eyes on the thin necklace strap peeking above his collar.

  “Go for it,” he says softly.

  “You’re not from Erenen, are you?” I keep my voice easy, non-threatening. Depending on the circumstances, I’m not sure how loaded this question is.

  He’s quiet for a moment as he searches my eyes. I reach up and pull the necklace out so the pendant lays over his shirt. The sun catches the metal disk and the blue-green gem inset in the center. Tourmaline, a native earth stone to Daol.

  “I saw it when we were… in the cave.” Heat flushes my cheeks. “I didn’t think much of it until I heard you speaking Daolic again in your sleep last night.”

  He steps backward, allowing enough of the afternoon breeze to caress us separately. He looks to the ground and crosses his arms over his chest. His jaw tightens and he avoids my eyes. “What was I saying?”

  “I couldn’t tell,” I lie. I don’t wish to torment him with his subconscious thoughts. He has enough to deal with. “I guess whatever Rhyn had you drink worked a little too well.” I laugh faintly, hoping to ease the tension building in his shoulders. He lifts his head and bears a semblance of a grin. I wait patiently to see if he’ll speak. Seconds turn into minutes.

  “I was six when I came here.” He speaks low enough that I have to step forward to hear him. “My mother—the one you met in Maburh—found me drifting to shore in a dinghy. She saw the necklace, too, and said I had to have been on the water for at least five days if I came from Daol. I had nothing but dried meat and a canteen with me.” He presses his eyes shut. “I remember sleeping most of the time. Keeping my eyes closed was better than looking out across the vast sea and not knowing where I was going or if I would end up dead.” He squeezes his arms tighter against his chest.

  The hairs lift on the back of my neck. “Who sent you in the boat?”

  He shrugs and drops his arms. “I… I don’t know.” He’s avoiding my eyes again. He’s lying. I’m scared, Mama…why do I have to go? He doesn’t know that I know his truth.

  “Oh,” I manage to say. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He’s offers a weak smile. I mirror his gesture and turn to walk away. “Excuse me,” I say quietly.

  He doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t say my name. He lets me go.

  I walk over to where Rhyn sits against a tree. He clutches his canteen in his hand. I know it’s not water inside, but he functions well with the ale, so I don’t mind. I brush away pebbles from the dirt and sit beside him.

  “How’s our boy doing?” he whispers. Colton is far enough away that he wouldn’t have been able to hear anyway at normal volume.

  “He’s…” I start to say. “Do you really think those herbs will help him?”

  Rhyn tucks the canteen away in his bag. He pulls his legs in so they cross in front of him. He’s limber for an older man.

  “The herbs will help, so long as he lets them help.” He clears his throat and rotates a silver band on his finger. “But it’ll take time to break down the wall he’s guarding himself with.”

  We both look across the lot at Colton. He leans a shoulder against a tree with his back turned to us. His head is down, his arms are bent at the elbows. I wonder if he’s looking at the relic of his past.

  I feel a tinge of guilt in my veins as I discuss him with a third party, but it seems Rhyn has a better understanding of Colton’s anguish than I do. I sit up straight and pull my shoulders back. My hands are folded neatly in my lap. Correction: my hands grip one another to soothe my anxiety.

  “But it’s possible for him to recover from… this?”

  Rhyn chuckles. His voice is smooth, relaxing. Exactly what you would expect from a physician. “It’s possible,” he says. He runs his fingers through the length of his beard, a sea of varying gray strands. “Now, I never experienced the arena myself, so I don’t know exactly what he’s experiencing. But I do know that the mind is stronger than most people give it credit for.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ll put it like this—you have power over your mind, not outside events. Once you realize that, you’ll find strength. So, Colton needs to find a way to take back control of his mind.”

  I look down at my hands, open and close them, and hope to find the answer to all the world’s problems in my palms. All I find are healed scrapes from my new reality.

  “Do you care for him, Your Majesty?”

  My head snaps up in Rhyn’s direction. His eyes are soft, paternal. He’s grinning like he already knows the answer. He’s analyzing every nuance, every gesture of my face, anything that will support his theory.

  “No.”

  He leans back and tilts his head. “No?”

  “No.” The muscles in my arms twitch and my brows pull together. “At least, not in the way you’re suggesting.”

  He catches my underlying tone and smiles. His arm reaches blindly for his bag, for his canteen. He finds it and brings it to his chest, then holds it out to me. My eyes dash from the canteen to his face. I force a smile and shake my head.

  I didn’t mean to snap at him, but his question crept under my skin and nestled around my veins. I’ve known Colton for less than a week. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to him. And I like that I feel less burdened when it just the two of us. Regardless, there’s still plenty that we don’t know about each other, and those secrets keep me from give Rhyn the answer he expected.

  “Back the hell up—”

  I’m jarred from my thoughts at Merethe’s voice. She and Colton are going toe to toe, yet again. His tall frame towers over her petite one, but his size doesn’t seem to intimidate her. Kaleo stands at Colton’s side, content at letting the two argue. I grumble and pull myself to my feet.

  “You should leave, little girl, while you still have a chance.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “What”—I step between them—“is going on?” My eyes shift to each of their faces.

  Colton speaks first. “She needs to go. There’s no way we can trust her.” His hand rests on
the hilt of his sword. Fingers flex around it like a cobra right before it intends to strike.

  “Yeah, well, no one can trust a loose cannon like you,” Merethe spits back.

  My eyes shoot daggers at her. She catches my warning and changes her attitude. I look to Colton and soften my own demeanor. “Do you trust me?” I instantly regret the words as they pass over my tongue.

  He stares at me, his tense forehead relaxing as he considers my question. I wish I could say his hesitation comes as a surprise to me. “Of course, I do.”

  I turn to him and block Merethe from his view. “Then, stop all this. Please. All of this will be for nothing if we keep fighting each other.” He peers over my shoulder at her. She rolls her eyes and walks away. I hold a hand to his chest, directing his attention back toward me. “All right?”

  He sighs and mumbles his acknowledgment.

  I look away to find Aiden standing outside the door. He nods once, his ginger hair highlighted in the sun.

  I lift my foot to walk toward him when Colton seizes my hand, clutches it firmly within his. I cock my head to the side. He leans down, his voice a whisper. “There’s something not right about her. I know it.” He holds my hand and my gaze for a slow second before releasing them both. His words aren’t of spite, but of caution.

  Colton

  We arrive in front of stone house with sharp corners at three edges and a cylindrical tower at the fourth. It’s bigger than many of the other homes around here and has a smithshop attached to the ground floor.

  Skylar whistles his amusement. “Damn,” he says, taking in the structure. “This is pretty decent.”

  Aiden stops in his tracks and glares at Skylar. “Keep your hands to yourself.” His words are curt. “Nothing better come up missing.”

  Skylar grins and holds his hands up. “Relax, relax… I hear ya.” Still, his eyes dance around the concrete porch and land on a golden vase set in the corner. Though blue flowers cascade over the rim, it’s not the perennials that has Skylar’s interest.

  We wait for Aiden to open the door with the set of keys Garret Lenore gave him. The door creaks open and we follow him in.

  Sunlight shoots into the house, every which way, from the windows lining the walls. Cobwebs and dust litter the area. It doesn’t look like the house has had much use in the past few weeks.

  Aiden tries to hide the pain behind his eyes as he surveys the interior. He blows the dust off a couple of lanterns and wipes their glass clean with his sleeve. He lights them, offering a little more light into the rooms. The others might be buying into his indifference, but I read the unsaid words of his tense shoulders.

  “So, this is all yours now?” Kaleo asks. He pulls a chair out from the table and sits down, not bothering to remove the dust first. His ankle rises and rests on the knee of his other leg.

  Aiden shoves his hands into his pockets and half-smiles. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Kaleo laces his fingers together and cradles them behind his head. “Not bad. Shall we get started, then?”

  “Yeah.” Aiden looks to the rest of us. “Um, make yourselves comfortable.” He hurls Skylar another warning glance, then he and Kaleo disappear through a door leading to the shop.

  Hours pass while Aiden and Kaleo forge a variety of weapons. Swords, arrows, knives, each brought to life using Aiden’s designs for a more efficient weapon. For a while, I sit in the shop and watch them work. The room is hot, a sweltering dry heat, but it doesn’t seem the bother them. Tools line the walls, each serving a different purpose in producing something out of nothing.

  I can see why Aiden took to weapon-making. There’s something mesmerizing in it. To take a piece of raw ore and forge it into a piece of art. It’s intriguing.

  Not after long, neither of them notices me in the room. They’re both focused on creating as many weapons as they can for us. We’re going to find the men that we lost, and when we do, they’ll need to be armed.

  I wander around the shop, careful to stay out of their way. On a far table, there’s a small, whittled piece of wood. Earlier, Aiden had been hunched over it as he worked. I pick it up with both hands and it lays across my open palms.

  An intricate scroll pattern is carved on one end. Meticulous detail went into making the wood appear to swirl around itself into a flawless flow. The other end tapers to a rounded point. I turn it over in my hands, appreciating the wood grain that runs the length of the tool.

  I look over my shoulder at Aiden. His back is turned to me as he leans over the kiln. The flames rise and lick the air as he moves a red-hot piece of the steel in the embers.

  As I put the piece back onto the table, the scroll end shifts away from the other half. A knot forms in my stomach and I check Aiden’s attention again. I know he hasn’t killed much, but he’d probably kill me for breaking his thing, whatever this is. I bring it closer and squint, hoping I can fix it before he notices.

  A difference in the material catches my eye. I pull the two halves further apart. Attached to the scroll end, there’s a thin knife that fits securely into the rounded side. A dagger. He made a dagger. I remove it completely from the wooden sheath and inspect the blade. The thickest part of the steel is the width of my pinkie. I lay a finger on the blade and without applying any pressure, the metal bites into my skin. Droplets of blood squeeze through the cut. I pop my finger into my mouth and absorb the metallic taste on my tongue.

  “You’ll want to be careful with that.”

  Aiden carefully takes the dagger and inserts it back into the sheath. He lays it down on the table.

  “Sorry, man. What’s it for?”

  Soot is settled into the thin lines of his face. His usual paleness is darkened from the time by the fire. He leans back against the table and folds him arms over his chest.

  “It’s for Leona.”

  I glance down at the tool again, then back at him. “It doesn’t look like a normal dagger.”

  He picks it up and rotates it around the rounded point. “That’s because it’s not supposed to look like a normal one. She’ll wear it in her hair while she’s there.” His eyes are weary, his voice is grim.

  I cock my head to the side. “While she’s where?”

  “Huh?” He sets the dagger back down and wipes the sweat sitting on his forehead.

  “You said, while she’s there. Where’s there?”

  He shakes his head and pushes his damp hair from his eyes. “Sorry, must be the heat finally getting me.”

  I pull my lips to the side. “You’re a bad liar. Tell me what’s going on.”

  His silence confirms my suspicions. There’s something he’s not telling me. “Aiden…” I wait for another moment.

  “You should talk to her,” he finally says, pushing himself from the table. Without saying another word, he turns to walk back toward the other end of the shop. He rejoins Kaleo and the strike of the hammer hitting the metal amplifies the questions in my mind.

  Leona

  The air is hot tonight. Or maybe, it’s the heat from the smithshop spilling into the atmosphere. Regardless, I take advantage of it by lying under a tree in a secluded area of the property. The earth is soft, the grass providing extra cushion against my back.

  Every now and then, Rhyn’s head peeks over the stone wall to check on me. If he’s trying to be stealthy, he’s failing, but I don’t mind the security of knowing my welfare is being watched.

  We received word that many of our men escaped the mountains and took refuge in Oerdin. The guards have already scoured the village and isn’t likely to make a return trip so soon. They also wrote about the ones who didn’t survive. Six casualties, so far. Six souls that were unjustly released from their bodies.

  Aerok hasn’t given up on hunting me. In Oerdin, a home was reduced to ashes and a young girl perished in the flames. The message said she resembled me and made the mistake of running into the house to dodge the guards’ pursuit. When the guards returned the next morning to verify my death, not so much as a hint o
f remorse passed their lips when they discovered the girl was not the queen.

  My laced fingers rise and fall as they rest over my stomach. My eyes scan the skies above as hundreds of tiny stars blink back at me. Against the vast expanse of the sky, I’m so small in comparison. Suddenly, my issues don’t seem so dire. The stars remind me that there’s a whole world out there I haven’t yet discovered.

  I find a group of stars true to the old tale Mother once told me. Ursidae Micro, or Little Bear. Four points of the constellation form a box with three more stars extending from a corner. Mother said that in a sleuth, the strongest member will always be the youngest bear. The group’s entire future rests on his success. Although he is small, and therefore underestimated, he will bring along a brighter tomorrow when all the seasoned bears have long passed. My heart sputters as I remember her calling me her little bear. There was so much adoration in her voice as she crooned the words.

  “You’re hiding something.”

  I bring my elbows behind and prop myself up. Colton stands before me, arms crossed, face stern. I groan and pull myself upright. No sense in keeping it from him any longer. I pat the ground beside me. He blows out his cheeks and releases the air, then reluctantly sits.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” His face relaxes from anger to confusion, then to anxiety.

  I take a deep breath and turn to face him. His eyes peer through mine, past the defensive walls I can’t keep up. “I’m letting Merethe take me to Aerok.”

  He flinches. His jaw falls into his lap. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his eyes and forces a hard exhale. Every reaction I predicted from him rushes into existence. “What the hell are you thinking?”

  I stiffen my spine and sit up a little taller. “I’m thinking that if there’s a chance for me to end this, then I should take it.”

  “Is that what the hair thing is for? And Merethe?” He stabs a finger toward the house. “You’re going to trust her to get you there?”