by T. G. Ayer
“Which I’m told is the case at this point. Is there any reason to continue delaying the inevitable?” asked Logan, his fingers tightening around the strap of his duffel.
Sienna cleared her throat. “Well. You’ve had zero training.”
“Something you should have thought about before this, don’t you think?” replied Logan, his tone cool.
Sienna glanced over at him, spine stiff as though ready for a fight. But as soon as she met Logan’s eyes she deflated, shoulders drooping. “Fine. I get it. I should have told you earlier...given you a chance to build up your skill at it. Which also means I’ll deserve it when we arrive and you want to rip my head off.”
“And why would I want to do such a thing?” Logan asked, a little more worried now as he wondered what else she hadn’t told him.
Sienna cleared her throat. “Well, the first time tends to have an overall effect on your body. Dizziness, disorientation, and nausea are the biggest concerns.” Sienna paused and looked over at Logan. “And I know as the new ruler, the last thing you’d want is to spray your breakfast all over Aunt Lyra and old Vyrian the moment you arrive.”
Logan gritted his teeth. “This is perfect,” he said darkly.
Still, Logan wasn’t so afraid of emasculation through vomit. Perhaps he’d have to ensure he kept low to the ground and maintain a low trajectory. Just in case, of course. Logan was pretty certain he had a hardier gut than Sienna believed.
“Does our arrival have to be welcomed with pomp and ceremony?” he asked.
“The Queen Regent and the General are the least bit pomp and ceremony you’ll get. Trust me, you’d prefer arriving to their presence than to a grand reception of the full council and all their entourages.”
Logan took a deep, slow breath, forcing calm into his mind. “Sienna—”
Again his sister cut him off with a slim finger near his nose. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ve got things under control. We’ll arrive elsewhere within the castle and walk to the throne room instead. Lyra and Vyrian will be disappointed, but I’d rather you save face in front of them. You have enough obstacles to overcome when you take on your role. Can’t have you starting off on the wrong foot.”
“So where exactly are we going to arrive?” Logan asked, aware that he was a little nervous. The thought of the journey through the portal had somewhat extended the moment of arrival, giving him the idea that he’d have a slower progression to his arrival. Instantly appearing inside the palace hadn’t even been a distant possibility.
Suck it up, Saleem’s voice said in Logan’s mind. The damn djinn was like a ghost in Logan’s head and he had to wonder why the voice of his conscience had taken on Saleem’s rough baritone. It only made Logan focus harder on the fact that he hadn’t heard from the djinn in a while.
Kai’s last words regarding Saleem also weighed on his mind. She’d said they had a crazy important thing, which required Logan to rest up. Was Saleem in some sort of trouble?
But Logan couldn’t concentrate on the djinn right now. If Saleem needed help, he’d find a way to let Logan know about it.
So, for now, he concentrated on Sienna who was saying something about a bedroom covered in dust.
“What bedroom?”
“Are you not listening to me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
She could have easily just slipped into his mind to find out what he was thinking, but she’d stopped doing that a few days ago.
It had taken Logan long enough to learn to raise his defenses in order to keep some parts of his mind private from his sister. Sienna of course had mastered that art well before Logan, but she still suffered from momentary lapses when she was too emotionally invested in something.
Now she poked him in her arm. “We’ll be arriving in your bedroom. It’s been prepared for you, and you’re going to thank me. You should have seen what they did with the place the first time around. Who in the world would have thought my brother, the General of Drakys, would want to sleep in a powder blue and gold bedroom. It looked like Caryssa’s Bordello down in the Eastern Quarter.” Sienna stopped speaking abruptly as she registered her words, then quickly slipped her hand into the crook of Logan’s arm.
“Come. We’d better be going. Hold tight to your duffel. There’s a high chance it’s going to get flung somewhere. Let’s hope we don’t break anything important.”
Logan’s last thoughts as his physical form fragmented into shards of shadows had nothing to do with how he’d feel on arrival in Drakys.
All he could think about was how Sienna had inside knowledge of what a bordello looked like.
Chapter 5
Logan’s arrival inside his bedroom was the most unceremonious he’d ever experienced, and he was infinitely glad that Sienna had had the forethought to ensure their appearance in Drakys was private.
His duffel bag had gone flying—as she’d predicted—and had had a loud altercation with a six-foot-high wrought-iron column that had been supporting a giant bouquet of burnt orange flowers.
Said flowers were now strewn across the carpet, though the column had survived the attack. Logan, though, was a little uncertain of the prospect of his own survival.
His gut churned, his throat closing and opening of its own volition as he threw up. The destination of the contents of his stomach had turned out to be a gleaming golden bowl large enough for a small child to bathe within.
It appeared Sienna had been well prepared.
Logan raised his head to ask her if she was okay, but had barely moved an inch before he dropped down toward the bowl and retched again, the sound loud as the vomit slapped the sides if the golden basin and echoed back at him.
Logan had not felt this miserable in a long long time.
Well, no. That was a bold-faced lie.
He had felt this way only a few days ago when Kai had ended up in hospital, shot during a setup arranged by the Walker High Council in order to have Kai sent to prison.
That’s when he’d decided that the best place for him was far away from Kai—at least until things with the Walker Council settled down. His decision to not go to the hospital to see her had ended with a portion of Kai’s bedroom wall scorched black.
His reaction had been sobering, and had only underlined the importance of his decision.
Now, feeling as though hours had passed, he hung his head over the golden bowl and retched until there was nothing left.
At last, Sienna handed him a wet soapy towel, and then a dry one after he’d cleaned his face up.
Logan dabbed his face dry and let out a groan as he struggled to his feet and studied the room, which wavered in his vision.
“Woah, not so fast. You’ll need a minute.” Sienna grabbed Logan’s arm and guided him to a small seating arrangement of two armchairs with matching footstools, separated by a low round table. Logan didn’t complain about being nursed, just sank into the soft cushion of the armchair and allowed Sienna to prop his feet up on the footstool.
“Now, sit tight. I’ll grab you something to drink.” Sienna spun on her heel and rushed to a sideboard to Logan’s left. It sat against a wall between two of six floor-to-ceiling windows that lead out onto a balcony large enough to fit a second bedroom.
Looking up though, appeared to be a bad idea, and Logan sank lower, hunching his shoulders as he took slow deep breaths—and a few short naps—while Sienna bustled around in a most motherly way.
As he watched her, he caught glimpses of a memory from when they were younger, a more diminutive version of Sienna, holding a small pail filled with apples in one hand, the other grasping a bucket of water.
Water sloshed against her skirt but she didn’t care, her face scrunched up with determination as she hauled her two burdens to the veranda.
Logan straightened from chopping the wood and called out to her to take it easy, but his sister had climbed the stairs and yelled out that she wanted all the chores done before he came ‘cos she was damned if she was going to see
Mom get another blue eye.
Logan let out a grunt as the memory settled into his mind, a picture of his past that he’d not possessed until today.
“You okay?” came Sienna’s voice as she hurried over to him. “Here, drink some of this. It’s like cranberry juice. Nice and tart and good for your stomach.”
Logan took the proffered goblet and sipped slowly, barely taking notice of the gilded stem and the crystal bell of the wineglass. So much luxury in the first moments of being back in Drakys.
Logan wasn’t sure he’d be able to take it.
The drink was a deep blue and tart, and so very similar to the flavor of cranberry that he felt a little disoriented at the color. He shut his eyes and sipped again, then sat back. “How long before this is over?” he asked, barely able to speak.
Sienna frowned. “Can take a few minutes. Or a few hours. You’ve passed out three times already so I’m beginning to think a certain mindmelder knew what she was talking about.”
“I thought I’d had a nap or two,” Logan said with a soft chuckle.
“Not naps, you dolt. You were lights out for almost forty minutes. Three times.”
“What the time?”
“Eight-thirty ish.” Sienna waved her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Just take it easy. I don’t want to have Darcy on my ass in case you kick the bucket.”
Logan smirked.
And he may have passed out again because when he blinked, Sienna was tapping her foot, arms folded as she glanced over her shoulder, her face looking she was trying hard to come up with a plan. “...I’d prefer you on the bed but it’s a little too far away from you right now, and I ain’t carrying you.”
He snorted, wondering how far away a bed could be from him considering he was sitting inside the bedroom. He lifted his lids and peered over the top of his goblet, then blinked as the gigantic bed, with its gold and bronze carved headboard, seemed to swim in the distance like a mirage.
“What are you laughing at?” Sienna asked reaching out with a napkin to wipe Logan’s cheek. He didn’t protest. “The bed is too far away,” he said, chuckling again as he stared at the huge mattress. Sienna clicked her tongue. “That’s just what I said, you dolt.” Then she let out a sigh. “Okay, I get it. Yeah, this place does tend to get a bit over the top. You get used to it.”
Logan smiled as the churning in his stomach began to fade. “You’re the queen, though. I imagine your bedroom looks a damn sight more flamboyant than mine.”
Sienna stopped moving and turned to face Logan, which he only knew because her fingers came into view, twisted around the red napkin. She sighed and sank onto the footstool beside his boots—which he prayed he hadn’t splattered with puke.
Sienna let out a sigh. “I think I already explained things to you about the way the realm is ruled. Seems like you either didn’t hear me or you think I’m saying it to soothe your stupid ego,” she said, shaking her head.
Logan cleared his throat. “I’ve just never heard of a joint rule by a queen and a general. To me a queen outranks a general like...a billion to one.”
“That’s just it, Logan. The word for general in the Drakyr tongue doesn’t translate so well. For all intents and purposes it means the Leader of the Armies of Drakys. The queen is the diplomatic leader. And the siblings rule with one hand until death ends their reign.”
Sienna’s explanation sobered Logan and he opened his eyes a fraction wider.
“I don’t remember you saying that...exactly.”
Sienna shrugged. “Remember that I’m still learning myself. What I’d been taught in the last few years tended to be superficial knowledge. But Aunt Lyra has been guiding me a little more, passing on the history and the traditions.”
“And when would I have received this education?” asked Logan, shimmying in his seat as he pulled his foot off the footstool.
“You wouldn’t have.” Sienna’s answer had Logan’s eyes snapping up to meet hers. But she didn’t wait for his curt question. “There wouldn’t be any need for education as such. Aunt Lyra was merely satisfying my curiosity. During the Ascension Ceremony, the incoming ruling pair receive the memories of all the previous rulers of the kingdom, going back as far as our people have had organised rule in this realm.”
As she spoke, Sienna pointed at the bed, and Logan grunted in response, more to his surprise at the revelation, at how odd it sounded to his ears, than his disinclination to obey her instruction. He lifted an eyebrow. “And how exactly does this memory transfer occur?” he asked, as he wobbled over to the enormous bed, trying to quell the smile that had begun to curve his lips.
But Sienna wasn’t paying his amusement any mind. Her brow was furrowed as she guided him onto the bed and fluffed his pillows.
“That’s the part that nobody has told me,” she said at last as she straightened. “It’s not recorded anywhere that I know of, and believe me, I’ve searched the libraries high and low.”
“So what? We’re expected to submit to this initiation with zero knowledge as to the details or how this knowledge is given to us?” asked Logan, well aware his skepticism was out in the open. But again his sister didn't care.
“I guess you and I are a little different. All the previous ruling pairs would have ascended after knowing their whole lives what their destiny was. I guess we’re EarthWorld people in a foreign realm when it comes to Drakys and its customs. But Logan, that’s one thing you cannot reveal.”
Logan squinted as she hovered over him. “That we’re Earth people?”
“No...I mean that you doubt. There are members of the council who would look for every reason to overturn the current laws. For generations, the Drakyr people have been ruled by a perceived matriarchy. But a small group of councilmen, many of whom have spent time in the Earth-World, have come to believe that it’s time for a king on the throne and not a queen.”
Logan nodded slowly. “Politics, huh?”
Sienna let out a soft huff. “Those old goats don’t know anything about politics. All they can see is taking control. They have this weird idea that the rule of the queen has subjugated them for generations, emasculated them in a way.”
“And that isn’t the case?” asked Logan carefully, watching Sienna’s face closely.
Her eyes were wide and flashed with annoyance. “What do you take me for? Of course, I did my research. I was approached by a number of councilmen and their women—”
“Women? Polygamy?” Logan smirked.
“No, silly. Some of the men are open about their mistresses. And a few mistresses are quite vocal about their relationships.”
“Sounds like unofficial polygamy to me.”
“Whatever it is, some of these women appear to have been converted to the type of male-centric rule, believing that women are not born to be rulers.”
“Great. A polygamous cult.”
Sienna shook her head and clapped her hands. Apparently she’d given up. “You sleep now, and I’ll be back to fetch you. I’ll get us something to eat and let Aunt Lyra know we’re both in one piece.”
Logan smirked. “Geez. If this is what matriarchal rule looks like, I can understand why the men want to take back the power.”
Sienna spun on her heel and stared at him, her eyes wide with shock, mouth open to lash out at him. When she saw his smirk, she relaxed and grinned. “Logan, you’re such an idiot. But you’d better get yourself ready. You’re going to get lobbied up the wazoo the moment they know you’re here.”
Logan smirked and shook his head. “I’m a little concerned about what the lobbying entails. What are the chances of my wazoo withstanding such an onslaught?” Logan asked as she walked toward the door.
Sienna let out an annoyed grunt and was about to speak when Logan waved a hand. “Wait, I got this,” he said, receiving a scowl in response. Said frown transformed into a burst of laughter as Logan replied, his voice thin and high to mimic hers. “Logan, you’re such an idiot.”
Chapter 6
&nb
sp; When I opened my eyes, it felt like the very act of forcing my heavy lids apart was a crime. As much as a it was a crime to have the afternoon sun stealing through the narrow slit between the heavy drapes in my bedroom.
At some point, someone has been thoughtful enough to shut out the sun, likely believing they would encourage a deeper more restful slumber—perhaps Lily, since she been overly attentive since my return, walking around on tiptoe as though every step would cause my numerous pains to multiply tenfold.
Or even my father Corin, whose time was now divided unevenly between attending to wife and daughter, both whose bodies had been ravaged by various levels of scientifically related tortures.
Or perhaps Grams—who'd lurked on the edges of the group hugs and the hollow voices, pitched a note or two higher in fake non-concern—eyes large and filled with a faded sorrow for daughter and granddaughter, emotions in an upheaval not too dissimilar to what I was feeling.
But now, as I squinted and angled my head to avoid the golden brightness of the slicing sunbeam, I merely cursed the good samaritan for not ensuring the drapes had been fully shut so I wouldn't have to deal with the pain now surging and simmering behind my eyes, the constant spiking in my head which had only been exacerbated by the invading sunlight.
I let out a soft sigh, careful to release the air slowly as I observed the intensity of the pulsing agony within my skull. It had taken mere minutes after reaching freedom for every limb, every muscle within my body, to register that everything hurt. And to understand that everything made that hurt worse.
Even breathing.
And, as breathing was apparently a compulsory activity, I endured the task though I soon learned that rapid inhalation pushed that throbbing to heights that teased my consciousness with a sensation of falling, an indescribable drunken weightlessness usually experienced just before one passed out.
