by Rachel Grace
“Welcome to Trader’s Square.”
Dare stopped short, digging the heels of her scuffed, borrowed boots into the dirt. That was the queen’s voice. It was tinny and unnatural, but it was hers.
She looked over the crowd to find the source of the cheerful announcement. There, seated on a throne of limestone, nodding to the passersby, was a life-sized automated replica of the queen coated in delicate copper leaf. A crank key at the base turned slowly as the figure moved through its sequence of operations with clockwork precision. A nod. A wave. An expression of serenity.
It was a masterful likeness. Dare had seen other such automatons before, most as they were being built. The artisans told her that people loved to feel the queen was watching over them wherever they lived, which was why they were sent out to all of the cities in Theorrey. In this way, everyone could be as close to her divine presence as possible. In spirit if not in truth.
This one was the best yet, forged with such attention to detail that Dare had to move closer.
Queen Idony the Ever Young. The artistic engineer had captured the eternally fourteen-year-old monarch perfectly; the mischievous smile, the large, deep-set jeweled eyes, wise and knowing beyond her apparent years. Even the distinctive shining hair was exact—made of fine, individual strands of white gold. It fell to her shoulders, drawing attention to the necklace that always adorned her graceful neck.
The Nymphaea Infinitum.
Dare had been a much younger, newly chosen Chalice the first time she saw the amulet. It had fascinated her ever since. Its strangely shaped gears, made of a metal unlike any she’d seen before, surrounded a lotus whose many petals were crafted from the valuable greenish-blue theorrite. What made it all the more unusual was that it seemed more than an ornament. It appeared to be grafted to the queen’s skin. As much a part of her as her own flesh.
“The symbol of my rule,” Queen Idony had told her with a small, ironic tilt of her lips.
The immense sadness emanating from her when she’d said it had made Dare—naïvely foolish and unaware of protocol—ask her why. Father had warned her not to share the knowledge of her gifts with others, but he couldn’t have meant to include the queen. Surely she, of all people, already knew. She knew everything.
“You dare to presume what your queen is feeling?” Idony’s smile had grown, and real amusement rolled off her in pleased waves. “I think you will be my favorite Senedal, Demeter. And I know we shall be friends. Though I’m not sure such a stodgy name will suit you. What was the commander thinking? I believe I will call you Dare.”
A scratchy, female voice interrupted her musings and brought her back to reality with a jolt. “Pretty version ain’t she, boy? We’ve been needin’ a new one for years. Got her in a few weeks ago though, surprised if this is the first time you’ve seen her.”
Dare couldn’t tear her gaze away from the moving statue as it nodded in regal welcome. She knew she had to acknowledge the woman who had appeared beside her lest she seem odd or out of place, but it was not easy to look away from the dearly familiar queen.
She tried not to flinch when she finally glanced up at the thin, taller woman’s face. One half of it was smiling. The other half, malformed from some terrible misfortune, was pulled into a grimace.
Dare forced herself to speak. “I’ve been ill. A… friend was looking after me.”
The scarred hand patting her arm stilled for a moment, and Dare sensed a jarring edge of suspicion from the woman. “Ill, you say? That’s too bad. But you look healthy enough now. Young and strong. Though I’m guessing it must be a tender throat that has you still sounding like a girl at your age. Friend, huh? Don’t have any family to look after you, then? No one who would care that you walk through the square untended?”
Dare tried to deepen her voice. “Yes. My throat. And I’m old enough to be on my own. I need no attending.”
Suddenly, Dare could barely hold back her tears. All the emotions around her must be affecting her control. A member of the Wode did not cry. She’d learned that long ago, when her father had first left her at the palace. She was a warrior, a soldier. Bred to be a companion and guard. Love and family were not for people like her.
Yet she did have a family of sorts in Queen Idony and Cyrus. An Arendal, Cyrus was Dare’s counterpart, the Queen’s Sword. They had arrived at the palace on the same day, replacing generations of their predecessors as the queen’s companion guards. Her Arendal and Senedal. Her Sword and Chalice.
She hadn’t cried when, months ago, she had been informed that Cyrus was missing, presumed dead. She hadn’t cried when she discovered that the queen… No. She could hardly admit the truth, even to herself. It was too horrific.
She could not cry now.
Dare tugged the brim of the large woolen hat farther down, to hide her expression. She wasn’t quick enough.
“Oh my,” the young woman, who looked to be around her age, tutted. “Here you’ll be thinking Lucy Thrice is ugly and mean. Put my foot in it, did I? I’m sure you are perfectly capable of attending yourself. Nothing could scare a brave lad like you, eh? But that throat and those watery eyes have given Lucy an idea. Tell you what, I have a special grain tonic that’ll ease your troubles. My own creation. Good for all that ails you. I won’t charge you a thing for a taste.”
The queen’s automaton tilted her head. “Welcome to Trader-der-der-der-Dare-Dare-Trader’s Square.”
Dare’s heart stuttered along with the replica’s vocal recording. Had it just said—? No, that was preposterous. It had to be a coincidence.
A man walked by and kicked the platform, the hollow thud making Dare cringe. He no doubt believed, as anyone with good sense would, that the gears within had jammed. As he passed, one of the queen’s metal eyelids lowered over a jeweled eye, which was emitting a soft blue glow. It looked decidedly like a wink. Impossible.
“The artist’ll be hearing about that little glitch I’ll wager. Come on, now. Time for my famous remedy.” The woman tugged on her arm but Dare shook her head. Seeing the queen’s likeness had only increased her urgency and reinforced her determination to complete her mission. Visiting with this pleasant unfortunate had no part in it.
“You are kind, Miss—”
“Thrice, is me. Lucy Thrice.”
Dare nodded. “You are kind, Miss Thrice.” She politely but firmly disengaged herself from the woman’s grime-covered grasp. “Unfortunately I must be on my way.”
“Listen to that,” a male voice drawled behind her. “If I closed my eyes, I’d be sure a lady from the Hill had come to visit with those sparklin’ manners, instead of a dirty lowborn boy.”
She saw Lucy’s mud-brown eyes narrow. “So would I. The lady part leastwise. I’m thinking we’ve found our special bird. Though you two are here early.”
The man snorted. “We’re right on time, with you just thinkin’ that. Had you fooled for a tic did she, Thrice? Thought you were the smart one. But then, you don’t have the right parts to sniff out the difference like we do. Bet she’ll fetch a price worth claiming at the docks.”
The brazen comment was followed by a wave of disdain and lust that crawled over Dare’s skin like snakes, telling her it was time to move on. She turned to find not one, but two squat, heavyset men, both of them looking at her with a cruel intent that matched the energy they were sending without restraint in her direction.
Dare held up a hand, not out of fear, but obligation. Wode protocol demanded she warn them. Even the lowest-born criminal deserved that much before punishment was meted out. “Step aside now, and I won’t have to hurt you.”
In answer, the men laughed and lunged for her.
Perhaps she would have been wiser to duck away from their grasping hands and run. It would be more in keeping with her disguise than her ultimatum had been. But she found herself growing angry instead, unable to keep up the pretense in the face of her outrage.
This was still Her Majesty’s land. Could a person not walk through it unaccos
ted? A mere boy? A woman alone? And where were the Wode charged with maintaining order in the square? They were meant to protect the innocent. To ensure safe commerce.
The first man tore her frayed jacket sleeve and half her shirt with one sharp tug. “Lookit ’er skin. So white and soft. Bet ’er tits and bits are just as fine. We should sample ’er before we sell ’er.”
Sell her? To whom? A red fog colored the edges of her vision at his words, but she tamped it down. She may be outnumbered and outsized, but her formative days had been spent training with men and women far bigger and stronger. These lowborns made a mistake to underestimate her because of her small stature.
The sleeve of her jacket dangled, and she let it drop to the ground, revealing the pearl-handled dagger strapped to her right forearm. Cyrus had shown her how to conceal a weapon for an instance such as this. An instance when fighting fairly would get her killed. One twist of her wrist and it was in her hand. Then her body tensed, prepared for battle.
The shorter man’s eyes narrowed. “Nettles, she has a knife. Watch yourself.”
He took a step back, though he was still blocking her avenue for escape. Surprised but unconcerned, Nettles licked his lips, and Dare sensed a twisted, more sinister thread running through his emotions. He enjoyed the idea of hurting her.
Dare glared scornfully, making it clear she doubted his abilities. He sneered at her expression as expected, and attacked. It was obvious in moments that this would not be a difficult fight. His big body was lumbering and slow. It was fair to say he was no match for her.
She ducked beneath his hands and struck his midsection with the hilt of her dagger, knocking the air from his lungs. Spinning low to the ground, she swept her leg out and snagged his booted ankles, felling him like a thick oak.
Before the dust could settle around him she was kneeling on his chest and slamming the heel of her hand into his nose. He howled with rage as it gushed blood, flinging up an arm to protect himself. Dare grabbed his wrist in a ruthless grip and bent his arm back on itself until it snapped with a satisfying crack.
The man bucked in agony, but before he could toss her off, she had her dagger behind her back, pressing it threateningly against the seam between his legs. She spared a glance for the man still standing. “He would not thank you if you took a step closer.”
She flinched at Nettles’ suffering when it reached her senses, but did not allow herself to be distracted by it. He deserved no pity. “I apologize for your pain, though I should unman you for your wicked thoughts.” She let every ounce of loathing she felt show in her voice and her eyes. “Instead, I will leave you for the authorities, safe in the knowledge they will agree with the punishment I have dealt. A reminder not to touch what does not belong to you. If a shield guard learned you sought pleasure with an unwilling partner again, you may wish you’d turned away when you had the use of both arms.”
Dare felt a sharp prick sting her neck and covered it with her free hand. Turning in shock, she saw Lucy Thrice beside her, holding a tiny thorn-shaped needle between her dirty fingers.
“What have you done?”
The woman shook her mane of tangled brown hair. “You should have come to have a nip with me, child. Your head wouldn’t ache so much after if you’d had my tonic instead. And if your family had been smart, they’d have told you that the Wode in Trader’s Square can be bought for a sip of my more pleasurable mixtures… and that you ought not to walk around alone.”
When Dare swayed, the woman cooed, “It’ll be all right now, Lucy Thrice is here. You want to experience something new? A better life?” She tsked. “You came to the wrong place. If you think about it, I’m really doing you a favor.”
Dare’s cheek hit the dirt beside the groaning Nettles, and she felt her body twitch as she struggled to move. Her limbs were going numb, her mind scrambling in panic.
The other man turned her onto her back, wrenched the dagger from her hand, and knocked off her woolen hat with his boot.
“By the two moons!” Lucy crowed. “Special bird indeed. You’ll make twice the fortune for Lucy Thrice as she thought. Damn Wode,” she added, a look of true disgust crossing the unscarred side her of face. “Shields, they call themselves. Break most of the rules they imprison or kill us for breaking, don’t they? And yet one of those bastards must have had his way with someone outside his line to make such a small, strange-looking thing as you. No wonder you fight like you do. Come by it natural, eh?”
Then she smiled down into Dare’s eyes. “Now you will thank me. Someday you surely will. Best life you could have if someone was to see what you were here, bastard and all, would be a vessel for their hate. Least this way you’ll get paid for it and have a decent chance of surviving after.”
The horrifying picture the woman painted was the last image Dare saw before the world went black.
Chapter Two
She woke when a cool, damp cloth was brushed across her forehead and placed over her eyes. Was she home? Her body ached as it did whenever Cyrus decided to show her a new sparring maneuver, and she was on a bed with sheets so soft they could have come from the palace.
But Cyrus was gone, and she was nowhere near Queen’s Hill. Or her queen. Dare would have sensed her presence as she always had before.
Her head throbbed, still recovering from whatever had been at the end of that needle. Unless she missed her guess, Lucy Thrice had succeeded in “saving” her. A favor Dare would pay back in kind as soon as she could.
Someone stood beside the bed, her thoughts and feelings in no way as convoluted as Lucy Thrice’s had been. Though still soft. Another woman, if Dare had to guess. She opened her mind and sensed only open curiosity, guilelessness, and compassion from the stranger. A fellow prisoner? A sympathetic servant?
Dare frowned in confusion. She knew there was only one other in the room, and yet she could hear voices. Male and female voices. Laughter. Soft moans.
When she tried to reach up to remove the cloth from her eyes, wondering why her mind was deceiving her, she realized that her wrists were bound.
Her head jerked and knocked the cloth loose, sending it sliding onto the pillow beside her in a wet heap. Dare looked up at her left wrist. Chains. An attempt to move her right arm proved just as fruitless.
She was chained to the bed. The cuffs were lined with velvet, but there was no mistaking the iron it covered. Why would anyone go to so much trouble to make handcuffs comfortable?
Dare shifted beneath the cool white sheet. Her legs were free, which was a blessing, but she noticed an added impediment to the escape she was already planning—her nudity. All she owned had been stripped from her, including her weapons. She should never have turned her back on that manipulative tonic seller. Or thought her kind on the basis of her unfortunate face.
“There now. I know it looks bad. I told the boss my own self that he might’ve gone too far, you being as little as you please, and passing out from weakness and all. I told him a girl who looks like you should be treated decent for once in your life. But when he sets his mind to something, not a one of us can change it.”
Dare turned her narrowed gaze on the woman beside her. Her accent indicated she was from one of the smaller farming communities. It was clear the long-limbed girl meant her words to be supportive. Kind. Her blonde hair was fashionably upswept with violet ribbons, and her body was barely covered in a thin dress of darker purple. She wore her corset on the outside of her gown, and it pressed her tiny breasts up so that Dare, or anyone else who was looking, could see more flesh than modesty should have allowed.
She smiled at Dare. “They call me Lavender. The boss told me to watch over you until you came to.”
“My name is Dare and I’m pleased to meet you, Lavender. Now that we’ve been formally introduced, would it be possible for you to release me?” She tried to keep her voice calm as she subtly tested the thickness of her bonds.
Lavender’s mouth formed a moue of apology but she shook her head. “The boss was
firm on that. When he realizes you couldn’t be a threat to anyone, I know he’ll make sure you are welcomed more warmly. This isn’t how he behaves as a rule. He’s been tense since he returned from the mainland on his errand, and I’m guessing rescuing you and tossing out one of his own men for accepting money for an unwilling girl made his day that much worse.” She patted Dare’s hip soothingly as she spoke without taking a breath. “Never you worry, Dare. Those two men who trussed you up to bring you here would be wishing they had been assigned to the mines… if they were still alive to wish. And if they were Felidae, of course. Neither of which is a possibility, is it?”
The mainland? Rescued? She must still be under the influence of Lucy’s drug. Nothing made sense. Perhaps if the sounds around her could be muffled, she could think. “Lavender, if I may ask, where is that noise coming from?”
The moaning had gotten louder, the voices rising as if in pain, yet Dare saw no one but Lavender in the room. Felt no presence but Lavender’s.
“You’re not afraid at all, are you? Just curious. I like that. The noise…” Lavender’s smile grew mischievous and knowing. “Since most of the private rooms are being used, and he isn’t willing to put you in the women’s suite yet, the boss decided to place you in the Echo Chamber. He has a wicked sense of humor.”
Dare stared at her blankly. “The Echo Chamber?”
In answer, Lavender placed another pillow beneath her head, affording her a clearer view of the room. It was luxurious, as lavish as any palace suite. She could see the finely crafted vanity and wardrobe, an exquisite hand-knotted rug on the floor, and red brocade curtains draping the walls, no doubt keeping out the light to ensure she could not gain her bearings.
Lavender pointed with one hand as the other slowly caressed Dare’s hair in a tender, almost absent fashion. “Do you see the statue in the corner?”
Dare studied the sculpture with a combination of awe and horror. What at first appeared to be a plaster jumble became arms and legs, breasts and hands. Three men surrounded a voluptuous woman, all caressing her as she rose nude from large waves frozen in time. “I see it.”
