Daughters of Ruin

by K. D. Castner

Endrit took the brush out of Rhea’s hand and turned her to face him. He looked in her eyes (which were wet (but prettily so)), she turned her face so her cheek would rest in his hand for a moment, and then he kissed her temple.

  Suki made a silent cheer (if they had been lovers, he would never be so chaste (they must have only slept together as cousins do, for warmth or comfort) or she might have snuck to him at night and failed her seduction). But Suki’s triumph was short. Rhea lifted her chin and rose onto the tips of her toes and kissed him (a long, urgent kiss (with her body pressing into his (her hands on his neck (his on her hips)) lasting forever (for the span of three full breaths (rise and fall (chest to chest), rise and fall (joined together), rise and fall (and twice as many heartbeats))))) until Suki turned and ran from the barn (stumbling) (blinded) weeping (unprettily so) back toward the farmhouse.

  When they walked back up to the house (and saw the garden destroyed) (and saw Suki awake (and dressed) and eating the last of a rind of cheese from the pantry), Rhea and Endrit acted like she (Suki) was the one hiding things and not them.

  “You’re awake!” said Rhea (no opinion one way or the other).

  “Mmm-hmm,” said Suki.

  “What happened to the fence?” said Endrit.

  “I dunno,” said Suki (shrug (who cares)). “A deer in heat maybe.”

  Endrit laughed at the idea of a deer razing a garden. Rhea made an incredulous look with her eyebrows. “Well, anyway, it’s good you’re up,” said Rhea. She approached and hugged Suki around the shoulders. Rhea didn’t touch Suki’s wound, but Suki winced anyway (just so she could pull away). “Ow!”

  “Sorry!”

  “Be careful.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Does it hurt bad?”

  (Yes, but not at the moment.) “Of course it hurts,” said Suki. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Two days,” said Rhea. “We gave you paste of the poppy.”

  (To get her out of the way, thought Suki, so they could tumble in bed together.) Suki tried not to stare at Endrit too much. She couldn’t even look at Rhea (too disgusted). For the next few moments they loitered around one another in an awkward conglomerate, with Suki sitting on the porch, Endrit pushing the fence back up (tying up the broken slats), and Rhea standing around (uselessly).

  Rhea fished for more information (“Can you rotate the shoulder?” “Would you like more poppy?”).

  Suki ate the cheese without offering any and refused to give her the satisfaction (or advantage) of knowing her weaknesses (“Rotates fine.” “I’ve slept enough, you?”).

  Rhea acted like a babe in the woods, (“How did I sleep? Fine, I suppose. Been worried a lot.”).

  (Worried she’d scare the horses, perhaps. Suki didn’t respond, so Rhea pushed further, (“We still haven’t heard from Cadis or Iren.”))

  Cadis had told Suki during the melee at the ball that she was going to Findain. Iren was probably with her, since the fastest route home was a ship up the River Oxos, inland until the Corentine port city of Takht-e-Malin. (And because they were friends and looked out for each other (unlike Suki (who had no one)).)

  Suki had no desire to share the information with Rhea.

  (“You’ve been busy.”)

  Rhea started to get annoyed, or at least, finally revealed it. (“What does that mean?”)

  It meant she was too busy diving at Endrit the moment she had him alone and hadn’t even the decency to go ask a highwayman if perhaps all of Meridan had burned down.

  “Do you have any idea what has been going on?” said Rhea.

  “Don’t be daft,” said Suki. Obviously, she had been unconscious. And what had happened was that Suki had missed her chance to escape and go back to Tasan (to be empress (if she managed the long journey back home and (if they even recognized her after all these years when they had sent no one, not her siblings, not any letters, nothing to give Meridan the satisfaction of knowing it held a princess of the empire as prisoner (or maybe because they’d just given her up for dead and made little Kasem heir-apparent (maybe she was homeless))))).

  Suki didn’t say any of that (Rhea would have relished it). She struck a courtly pose of impatience.

  “The Meridan dragoons either revolted in favor of some other house, or sided with the Findish rebels. They attacked us. We barely escaped. Marta has been arrested, for what, we have no idea. Cadis and Iren could be captured as well, for all we know. My father could be dead.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Taking care of you!” said Rhea. The exchange had suddenly turned (Rhea was so good at doing that (twisting everything)) and Suki was made to look childish in front of Endrit.

  “Will you talk to her?” said Rhea to Endrit (as if they were the parents of a petulant toddler).

  Endrit gave up on the dangling pieces of the fence and wiped his hands on the back of his pants. He looked up at Suki without acknowledging Rhea’s condescension. “We were thinking of going to Walltown for some news, and some fresher cheese.”

  He smiled. He was so much better than her.

  She would challenge Kasem if she had to (and demand her throne (and demand to marry Endrit)).

  “What do you say, Princess? If you say it’s a good idea, we go right away.”

  It was obviously a good idea. Suki stood up so she towered over Rhea at the foot of the porch and said, “Cadis told me she’s going to Findain. But we still need news and dinner, so we should go.”

  Rhea rolled her eyes (probably unable to accept the fact that Endrit wanted Suki’s advice (and that Suki was queenly and decisive (instead of anxious and wormy) and would have never holed up in a house for two days wondering what to do (and even if she had managed to wrap her legs around Endrit, it hardly mattered (she was just another low-hung peach (like the Cheapside maids) which she would expect Endrit to sample and discard)))). Just as any queen would want the best of everything, the most learned magisters, the loveliest troubadours, Suki also wanted the most experienced concubine.

  Suki hadn’t walked on a dirt road in her entire life. She had ridden, of course (on Helio) and driven (been driven) in a carriage, but never walked along the center (between the two ditches made by the wagon wheels) where the nettles grew (and the horse patties lay).

  She preferred to walk in the rut of a wagon wheel, where at least she could avoid being next to Rhea.

  “Does it hurt?” said Endrit, as they neared the outlying buildings of Walltown (a mill yard, a ranch for goats).

  “Hmm?” said Suki. (She had heard, but she wanted him to lean closer.)

  “You’re wincing,” he said, leaning closer. Suki realized that her face was squeezed tight and she let out a subconscious hiss with each misaligned step on the edge of the ditch (which sent pain shooting through her shoulder).

  “Sorry,” said Suki.

  Endrit laughed. “It’s no bother. I mean, you should keep it down, because it’s distracting.”

  (He was joking (because obviously being distracted was not as big of a deal as being injured (that was the joke)).) Suki smiled (but not too much (because it was too late by then)).

  “I heard you fought like a wolverine,” said Endrit.

  “They were badly trained,” said Suki. (That way she would sound nonchalant about how good she was.) The walls of Meridan Keep loomed in the distance. A motley village lay scattered at its feet. Rhea seemed to be pouting (since Endrit was giving Suki attention).

  “And now we have matching injuries,” said Endrit.

  “Huh?” said Suki. (She was busy trying to walk in a steady line (and also peek at Rhea without turning her head).)

  “We both have cuts on our shoulder,” said Endrit. “And you wrapped mine, and I wrapped yours.”

  Suki felt herself blushing. “Really?” (Really, had he wrapped her shoulder (who else would have done it?).) Endrit winked when she looked up at him.

  (Then the unwelcome voice of Rhea.) “While you were passed out at the ball.”

  (She had t
o remind Suki (she had to humiliate her (in front of Endrit)) about being unconscious (because obviously she was uncontrollably jealous that Endrit and Suki could walk together on a disgusting country road in peasant clothes and still feel as if the sun were shining just for them).)

  “Your tongue was sticking out,” said Endrit (but he was just teasing (he made a face like a dead sheep with a lolling tongue)). Suki slapped his shoulder.

  “Ow.”

  (But now Suki wondered—) “What else happened while I was out?”

  They paused. A wagon clopped up behind them. They stepped off the road and let it pass (cabbages). Rhea and Endrit burst into laughter. (Was it the cabbage cart? (or a joke they shared?).)

  “What?” said Suki.

  Endrit spoke. “It’s just that—you know I love you Susu—I’d never do anything to—”

  Rhea continued to sputter like a chimp (she loved having secrets).

  “What? Tell me,” said Suki.

  “I threw you at a couple dragoons,” said Endrit.

  Rhea laughed and laughed, as if nothing could ever be so funny. “Don’t be mad at him,” she managed to say. “It was my order.”

  He was obviously covering for her (she wanted to prove that Endrit would do whatever she told him (even throw her away)). It was so obvious, what she was doing (but Suki would have no recourse, no real weapons to fight her (and take him), no power until she was empress).

  “It was a tight corridor and I needed my hands,” said Endrit. Rhea started pantomiming a troll chucking a boulder and hysterically laughing (maybe the troll part was just her face).

  Endrit quickly added, “You were safe. I picked you back up as soon as we finished the guards.”

  “Wait,” said Suki, finally piecing it together. “Were you carrying me?” (Suki could think of nothing more humiliating than Endrit carrying her the whole time (and nothing more tragic (that she wasn’t awake to feel it)).)

  “Of course,” said Endrit.

  Suki cursed in Tasanese. Thankfully, neither of them heard it (because another wagon approached, this one full of soldiers). Suki, Endrit, and Rhea jumped off the road again (and pulled up the cowls on their wraparound capes (to cover their faces)). They must have looked like three farmhands on the way to market (maybe farmhands would have goods to sell? (Suki didn’t know (care).) Itinerant bricklayers, then).

  They were close enough to the outer yard of a tavern (a few drunks leaned on the wall by the door, watching passersby), so they kept their heads down and cowls up (so no one would recognize them).

  Walltown was probably always a mud-soaked madhouse of peddlers, beggars, and villagers living together in the shadow of Meridan Keep, but somehow it seemed even more agitated (crowded (edgy)) than usual. (It had been only a couple of days since the Revels.)

  A few open-air merchant stalls still had revelers’ masques on sale, along with ribbons and kites. Builders and soldiers elbowed through the crowds (the builders’ wheelbarrows were full of material (to rebuild the damage at the keep) and the soldiers to add security).

  At the central market, everyone shouted their sales (while casting glances at the tripled number of guards). Suki couldn’t tell if they were king’s men (or rather, which king). When Suki turned back from staring at all the market stalls, Rhea was already paying an old man for a slab of butter, four eggs, and some cured pheasant. She placed a silver coin in his palm and closed his fingers around it. “Keep it,” she said. “It’s troubled times, Father.”

  “Aye,” said the old man, pocketing the silver. “Aye, it’s that.”

  “Were you here, then, when it happened?”

  The man spat, “When the scum Fins tried to kill our king? Aye, I heard it too. It shook half my eggs clean off the table. Then madness. Total madness.” The man whistled through a gap between his teeth.

  Suki wanted to ask if the attackers were really Fins (how were they so certain?), but Rhea didn’t press the line (because obviously, it was better for her if they were (instead of what Suki suspected (which was that she and her father planned the whole thing in order to kill off the Protectorate (which was a little confusing (because then why wouldn’t Rhea kill Suki while she was unconscious? (maybe because of Endrit? (didn’t matter (Suki was certain)))))))).

  There was a hubbub at the central court (an aisle over, where the market stalls opened up into a small plaza with a well and a gallows (the people of Meridan had such a keen sense of justice and such a deep love of spectacle that a permanent stage for public execution was as important to their cities as the aqueducts)).

  Suki looked around for Endrit. He was buying dried figs from one of the village beauties (he whispering and touching her hand) (she giggling and putting extra figs in his bag). It looked like dragoons were marching onto the gallows.

  Rhea asked the old man, “And is everyone all right?”

  “All right?” said the man. “Sesquitaine and Sprolio have fallen. Half the royal guards—children of Walltown some of them. Most of the court—rich bastards the lot of ’em, but deserved better.”

  “Yes, but the king—”

  “Oh. He’s just fine, thank the gods. No one’s heard of the little queens, though. . . .”

  “Have they—”

  Suki expected the question, “Have they declared war?”

  “—captured any rebels?”

  (Of course she would care only about herself (if they had captured rebels, they could torture information out of them (specifically, names of any Meridan guards who might have colluded with them (that was all that really mattered to Rhea, cleaning out Meridan Keep with her paranoid visions of assassins around every corner (not the fact that another war would mean countless Findish, or even Tasanese, lives)))).)

  “Capture them?” said the old man. “Aye, they caught every last one of them water rats.”

  Rhea and Suki both looked at the old man, confused (the dragoons couldn’t have possibly caught the entire raiding party (the attack was too well planned (and last they saw of it, the attackers had breached the inner defenses (it was chaos (one or two could still be hiding in some unlit corner of a pantry somewhere, deep in the castle, waiting to spring out (a paranoid thought, but still possible (no one could have rounded them all up))))))).

  “They caught them all?” said Rhea.

  “Aye. Meridan soldiers don’t wilt. Got all the cowards, and the traitors too—”

  Before Rhea could ask what he meant, the clamor at the scaffold rose and was pierced by a herald’s call. “Hark! Harken me, citizens! The king has come!”

  A cold shudder ran through Suki (that Declan was nearby). Endrit had heard as well (he let go of the beauty’s hand and ran over). Rhea was already pushing her way down the center aisle toward the plaza. A full regiment of dragoons had already taken positions at every alley and doorway surrounding the plaza. Their helmets shone from several rooftops and balconies.

  Endrit ran up to Rhea and grabbed her arm (gently (so not to catch any attention (Suki followed))). “Keep your hood on,” said Endrit.

  “Why? It’s my father.”

  A procession of guards had already approached the scaffold (Declan was dressed in military garb and climbed the stair with a slight limp (as if he was in great pain (but didn’t want his people to worry (how brave))) but where was Hiram? He would have been the one to dirty himself in a crowd.

  “I know,” said Endrit. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  “It’s over now,” said Rhea. “He’ll take us back. We’ll be safe.”

  “Maybe you will,” said Suki. (Endrit’s look said she wasn’t helping.)

  “We all will,” said Endrit, “but we don’t know about Iren or Cadis.”

  “They’re long gone,” said Suki (not certain why she blurted it out; maybe just wanting to be helpful).

  But Rhea whirled on her and made the peasants near them nervous. “What?”

  “I told you, they went home,” said Suki. “They’re being smart.”

  (Was she o
nly believing it now, because she didn’t see them with her father? (That meant Rhea hadn’t taken Suki’s word for it back at the farmhouse (which was typical (and Suki didn’t care))).)

  “That’s treason!” said Rhea. (Endrit had to step between them and quiet Rhea.)

  “Let’s hear what he says. We can go to him after. For now we have no idea who might be in the crowd.” (Appealing to her distrust of her own people was a good idea.) Rhea quieted. They found a nondescript place to stand by a tin peddler’s cart. On the scaffold, Declan let the crowd squirm a little before approaching—he was such a shameless showman that he might have been half Dain. “Good Meridan, I have been king only a short ten years.”

  Shouts all over the plaza. “A great king!”

  “King forever!” (which must have been the castle servants planted in the crowd (or the people of Meridan just didn’t care about the rest of Pelgard (it had been a prosperous decade for them, after all))). Declan accepted the praise with a modest smile, then raised a hand to speak again. “I come to you now, heavy-laden.” (“Murderers!” “Traitors!”)

  Declan raised his hand higher. “So many compatriots, friends, good and honorable houses under our own banners were shamefully struck that a weak heart would wither and die under the sorrow.”

  (A pregnant pause.)

  “But we are not weak hearts in Meridan,” said Declan.

  “Never!” shouted the people.

  The guards on the scaffold pushed a row of prisoners forward (shackled together (blindfolded and gagged (tattooed (but newly tattooed (the skin still red) with the marks of the Munnur Myrath)))). The crowd threw apples (hard ones) at the rebels (who screamed into the rags stuffed down their throats). In Tasan, the king would never stand on the same platform as criminals.

  The spectacle was unseemly. “We should go,” said Endrit.

  “No,” said Rhea (she must have been enjoying it). As the Meridan soldiers executed the prisoners (all at once, blades gushing from their chests), the crowd gasped and then cheered (and Suki stared at the fishmouths (so new (and the soldiers so young (younger than those she’d fought (and none of them injured otherwise, as one would be if captured in battle))))).