Facing the Fire

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Tullen answered with a laugh.

  Just as the officers were threatening to force their way in, Narre, in a performance that was absolutely inspired, had stood in a nearby room, crying, “It’s coming! Oh, Sava, my baby’s coming!” She’d included loud, groaning cries, the sounds of a mother pushing her child into the world. Thanks to months of living in a midwife house, the mimicry was spot on.

  All three safety officers had left in a hurry—but not before showing the midwife several posters with hand-drawn portraits of all the Golds, plus Ash and Wrey. The likenesses varied in quality, but when Tavi and her friends had heard about the posters, which were being distributed in Savala and around Cormina, they’d known they had to leave.

  “You’re right,” Tullen said after they’d walked a little farther. “Coming here was our only option.”

  They’d considered other places. Oren was out of the question, now that they were wanted. Tavi and her friends couldn’t even write to their families, much less travel there. Their posters would be put up in other cities, where kingdom loyalists would be all too happy to turn in supposed traitors. They’d discussed fleeing to the mountains or forest, but they didn’t want to lose touch with what was happening in the new kingdom.

  The Meadow was safe since it was a closed community, separated from the rest of the country. Yet it maintained some connection to other parts of Cormina through trade. Tullen and Jenevy, both former Meadow Dwellers, had predicted the gate guards would turn the Golds away. They’d tried anyway, and the elders had surprised them by letting them stay.

  Tavi and Tullen approached the Meadow amphitheater. Seeing the number of people entering with them, Tavi said, “Maybe we should’ve come earlier.”

  But as they surveyed the tiered rows of stone seats, Tullen spotted Reba, Narre, Sall, and Ash sitting about halfway up. They’d saved seats with bags and scarves. Tullen waved, and he and Tavi climbed up. Once there, Tavi greeted Narre and Sall, nodded to Reba, and ignored Ash. Within a quarter hour, Jenevy and Wrey arrived too.

  The spectators quieted when a tall, middle-aged woman strode onto the stage below. She wore a flowing dress in a colorful, striped fabric, and her hair fell past her waist. With a wide, joyous smile, she welcomed the crowd and introduced the first act.

  “That’s Tullen’s aunt,” Tavi whispered to Narre.

  “His real aunt, or just a woman about the same age as his parents?” Narre whispered back. The definitions of family relationships were quite broad in the Meadow.

  “His real aunt, his mother’s real sister. Her name is Bellika. She’s one of the newer elders.”

  When Bellika finished her introduction, the Golds settled in to watch performers of all ages telling the story of autumn through dance and song.

  At one point, a female dancer several years younger than Tavi entered the stage. She wore a bright-green robe. Her song began with light, animated music, and her dancing reflected the same mood. Soon the girl removed her robe, revealing a bright yellow dress. The music slowed a little but remained cheerful and warm.

  As the act continued, the song took on a more somber tone. The girl peeled off her dress. Underneath she wore a shirt and pants in shades of orange, red, and brown. Tavi smiled. At last, another girl wearing pants! At the end, even the pants and shirt came off, revealing a black layer that was tighter than any clothing Tavi had ever seen in public. The color was echoed in the mournful notes of the song.

  The girl ended by kneeling on the stage. Then the music burst back into a bright melody again, and two dozen young children in green costumes danced onto the stage and surrounded her, hiding her from sight.

  “Death has never been more beautiful,” Tavi whispered to Tullen.

  He smiled. “Death and life.” He put his arm around her shoulders and kept it there.

  A moment later, Tavi caught Narre staring at her. Narre shifted her eyes to give Tullen’s arm a pointed glance. Then she looked back at Tavi, one brow lifted, the hint of a scold in her smirk.

  Tavi smiled at her cousin. She was very aware of the arm draped over her, its solidity and warmth. Nothing wrong with sitting close to a friend, she told herself.

  She scooted closer to Tullen and returned her attention to the stage.

  Chapter Two

  Our son is fourteen years old. He just awakened last month. He is mind-blessed, and he writes the prettiest words you will ever read. People say they have never read better poetry. He would be a good writer of royal speeches, or even letters. We would be honored if he could come serve you.

  - Mr. Rab Umrosh to His Royal Highness King Relin, from Year One: Correspondence in the Corminian Kingdom

  “Must you start and stop so frequently?” Camalyn cried.

  The driver of her carriage ignored her. Maybe he couldn’t hear her, but she doubted that. With a lurch, the carriage moved again. Camalyn placed one hand on her queasy stomach and one on her mouth. I will not vomit. I will not. For once, her positive thinking worked.

  The carriage stopped again, so suddenly that Camalyn was thrown forward in her seat and nearly fell. She grasped the door, leaned out, and lost the bread and nuts she’d been idiotic enough to eat half an hour earlier. At least her dress’ full, brocade skirt was held back by the narrow doorway, thereby avoiding the splatter.

  She pulled the door closed, but she hadn’t been quick enough. From across the street, a woman’s voice screeched: “Camalyn! Queen Camalyn! Long live the queen!”

  Why hadn’t she stayed in the temporary palace overnight as Relin had done? This trip, which should have been short, would be the death of her.

  The woman’s enthusiastic shouts continued, and she was getting louder. Closer.

  Camalyn pulled back the black curtain just enough to see a middle-aged woman approaching the carriage. She wore black Karite garb with no veil, and that meant only one thing: Sweet Sava, she’s a fanatic. One of Camalyn’s followers. A monster of the queen’s own making.

  Camalyn knew she could activate her gift and tell the woman to leave, but she didn’t know if her stomach could handle the pain of gray magic. Besides, she’d only met with the Karites once since the coronation, and they were, quite rightly, questioning her commitment to her faith and to them. Perhaps she should start a friendly conversation with the woman outside. It would go a long way toward proving—

  Her stomach lurched again. The last thing she needed was to vomit on one of her followers. She pounded on the panel separating her from the driver’s seat and bellowed, “Move!”

  This time, the driver couldn’t pretend not to hear. “I apologize, Your Highness,” he called. “A milk wagon has a broken wheel. We’ll be here awhile.”

  A knock sounded on the carriage door, and Camalyn realized with a start that she hadn’t locked it. She threw the bolt, ignored the knock, and shouted even louder, “Tell them I’m the queen! Get me out of here, now!”

  “Very well, Your Highness.” The driver’s voice rose in volume. “Make way for the queen! Make way!”

  Camalyn waited, ignoring the persistent knocks and worshipful words outside her door. After several torturous minutes, the carriage moved again, throwing her stomach back into turmoil. They squeezed through a tight spot, and she cringed as the side of the carriage scraped against another vehicle. But at last they made it through the blockage and continued down the street.

  They had another mile to travel, through streets that seemed constantly congested. Camalyn leaned down and picked up a little pillow that was bouncing on the floor. She placed it at the small of her back and leaned against it, resting her head on the tall, padded seat. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and tried to ignore the carriage’s jostling and the sour aftertaste of bile in her mouth.

  All this—the fancy carriage, the ornate dress, the constant nausea—was the result of one conversation she’d initiated in early spring of the previous year.

  She’d arrived at Konner Burrell’s house without an invitation, and when a servant had opened the
door, she’d pushed past him into the foyer. Konner had met her there, his eyes wide with worry.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Is a councillor threatening to speak?”

  “No, Konner.” She unwrapped her veil and removed it. “I am.”

  He brought her to his study, where they sat on opposite sides of his desk.

  Camalyn took charge of the conversation. “Ash is working against you.”

  Konner gritted his teeth and stared at her for a long moment before responding. “I guessed as much. It’s fine; I have a back-up plan. What’s this about you—”

  “I told him I’m on his side.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you have money and strategic ability, and all Ash has is a pretty face. I’d rather work with you.” Camalyn leaned forward, locking eyes with Konner. “I could turn my Karites against you and help Ash bring you down. That’s what I’ve promised him I’ll do. But I’d rather not.

  “So here’s my offer. My Karites will support you and our new kingdom, just as we’ve always planned. I’ll ensure Ash is ineffective in his efforts against you. Once he’s king, I’ll see that you keep your position of power.”

  “And in return?” Konner asked.

  “You’ll make sure Ash marries me.”

  Konner laughed. “You want to be queen?”

  Camalyn smiled. Konner wasn’t likeable, but she did respect him. She appreciated that he had no silly notions about her being in love with Ash. He went straight to the point of the matter; it was about power, not romance. “Yes. I want to be queen.”

  “I can’t think of a better one. There’s one problem. Ash isn’t going to be king. I’ve lost all trust in him. After Liberation Day, he won’t even be part of the Grays anymore.”

  Camalyn tilted her head and examined Konner’s smug features. “You’ll kill him, won’t you?”

  “I have no choice.”

  “You said you have a back-up plan. What is it?”

  Konner picked up his pipe, packed tobacco in it, and lit it. He drew from it and blew the smoke out before answering, “Aldin.”

  It was Camalyn’s turn to laugh. “Aldin?”

  “I know.” Konner smiled. “He’s ridiculous. But he’s moldable. And he’s willing to do what it takes.”

  “Aldin. It makes sense.”

  “Still want to marry the king?”

  “I want it even more. I’d rather marry a silly boy than a man who killed his wife.”

  And so here she was, Cormina’s queen, stuck in the traffic of Savala’s streets, trying not to throw up. Things hadn’t turned out quite as she’d expected

  To begin with, Ash had disappeared. Konner had declared his former protégé must have escaped with the assistance of Revinee, a Gray whose gifted hands could alter facial features. He’d had her arrested and paraded in chains through the streets, a lesson to anyone who might defy their new king. There didn’t seem to be any evidence against her, but that hadn’t stopped Konner.

  Ruling seemed to be full of such distasteful situations; it wasn’t the luxurious life Camalyn had envisioned. However, the people loved her. It helped that she’d started with hundreds of devotees, the band of Karites she’d been grooming for months. Most of them walked around without veils now, and some had even rid themselves of their stuffy, black clothes, just as Camalyn had. The Karite elders were furious, of course, but they hadn’t excommunicated Camalyn and her people. It was too enticing to keep the queen as part of their sect, even if her involvement was nominal and somewhat heretical. The Karites weren’t so important to Camalyn these days; she’d easily won over most of the rest of the city too. She was beautiful and well-spoken, royalty the people could be proud of.

  Eventually she and Relin would live lives more fit to their new stations. Jewelers were working on massive, elaborate crowns. And this dreadful trip to the temporary palace would be unnecessary once the real palace was complete.

  The carriage stopped again. Camalyn pulled back the curtain and let out a relieved sigh. They’d arrived.

  The driver came around and opened the door, helping Camalyn down. It wasn’t an easy task, thanks to her full skirts. Once she reached the ground, she looked around. Several dozen people stood on the street behind barriers manned by safety officers holding hand cannons. The crowd cheered for her, and she greeted them with a brilliant smile and a wave.

  Straight ahead sat the temporary palace. It was a deceptively ornate name, considering it was a blocky office annex, formerly used by members of the Cormina Council. Several of the rooms had been converted to bedrooms, but Camalyn rarely stayed there. The place didn’t even have a proper kitchen. She stood, continuing to wave and smile, but her gaze was drawn to the right of the temporary palace.

  The council building had stood in that spot until five months earlier, when several bombs exploded inside the lovely old building. The bombs and subsequent fires killed most of the councillors inside, and the structure was deemed unsafe for use. Konner had claimed one of the councillors was behind the destruction, and as far as Camalyn could tell, the public still didn’t realize Konner himself was the mastermind. After the explosions, Aldin had been crowned as king, taking on the name of King Relin.

  Examining the site, Camalyn hid her fury. Their new palace was being built there, but construction was proceeding at the pace of a drunken snail. Even the old building’s destruction had taken months. Now, all she saw was a flat foundation and at least twenty workers standing around talking to each other.

  The palace would be fit for royalty, with gold and gems throughout. Sella, one of the first Grays, was now traveling to mines and mountains around Cormina, using her sight gift to seek out new deposits of precious stones and metals. It was the perfect place for her; Camalyn hadn’t liked her much. But it didn’t matter what Sella discovered if the actual structure didn’t get built.

  Keeping her smile in place, Camalyn turned away from her future home and summoned gray magic into her mouth. The pain of it pierced her, and just as she’d feared, it magnified her nausea. But she swallowed and didn’t allow the discomfort to reach her face. When the small crowd saw the strange, gray light emanating from her mouth, they cheered as they always did, with several people wiping tears away. They were still convinced gray magic was a mark of Sava’s favor, and Konner had instructed all the Grays to take full advantage of that belief.

  “Sava bless you all!” Camalyn called before walking toward the front door of the temporary palace.

  Once inside, she released her magic with a sigh. Then she turned and entered the large room on her right, a meeting space converted into a temporary throne room.

  King Relin stood as his queen entered the room. He hadn’t been seated on a throne—those were still under construction too. But the finest leather covered their chairs, which were probably far more comfortable than the thrones would be.

  “My queen,” Relin said, stepping toward her.

  “Relin.” Camalyn closed the gap, holding out her hands.

  Relin took one of her hands, but he placed his free hand on her belly, which was still perfectly flat. “How are both of you?” he whispered with an eager smile.

  “We’re fine.” Camalyn kept her expression smooth, but inside she seethed. She’d asked him not to touch her belly when others were around, and lately he’d forgotten her instructions far too often. She’d hoped to wait to reveal the pregnancy, but rumors were already flying and multiplying like dandelions.

  Perhaps sensing her anger, Relin’s smile turned apologetic, and he removed his hand. “Let’s sit.”

  Camalyn gave a single nod and walked with her husband to the small platform that held their temporary thrones. Once she was seated, she looked around the room at the others in attendance. Two members of the royal guard, both former safety officers, stood at the door with hand cannons. A servant stood in the corner, waiting for any instructions she might receive. And several pompous-looking men and women mingle
d throughout the room. They were members of the new Savalan nobility, every one of whom she despised.

  Each person in the room gazed at the king and queen expectantly, and Camalyn imagined they were all staring at her belly.

  When she’d asked to be queen, she’d thought little of the possibility of giving birth to future princes and princesses. But immediately after the hasty wedding (which had taken place the day after Relin was named king), Konner had approached his two monarchs and admonished them to “ensure that the kingdom may be established through proper heirs.”

  Relin couldn’t have been more pleased. In fact, ever since Konner had told him he’d be marrying Camalyn, he’d been ecstatic. She was beautiful, and he was, well, young. Very young and very enthusiastic.

  Camalyn wasn’t quite as young or enthusiastic as her new husband, but she’d always felt a certain affection for Aldin, who’d joined the Grays a week after she had. He made her laugh, and he was handsome. Sure, he annoyed her sometimes, and he was far from her intellectual equal. If she was to spend the rest of her life with one man, however, he wasn’t a bad choice.

  But . . . children? She wasn’t sure she was ready for that, and she was even more certain Relin wasn’t. She’d secretly hoped it would take a couple of years for her to get pregnant.

  Her body had disregarded her preferences. It had taken just three cycles for her to conceive. The midwives had just confirmed the pregnancy a week ago. Camalyn had known before that, though, due to the nausea. That was supposed to subside after the first three months, and she wouldn’t reach that milestone for another month. She wanted the time to pass quickly, but she also dreaded her pregnancy’s culmination. In a little over half a year, she’d give birth to a prince or princess. She didn’t even know how to be a mother; how would she raise royalty?

  Keeping a smile on her face (by Sava, she was tired of fake smiles), Camalyn leaned toward her husband and looked at him. He mirrored her motion, and she whispered, “What needs to be done today? Why are these people here?”