by Keri Arthur
A smile touched the captain’s leathery features. “I seriously doubt my experience would be any greater than that of a Westal Wildman. Your people battle the Skaran full-time. Those of us assigned command of the relief squadron at the Karva Pass only do so on a six-monthly rotating basis.”
“It is nevertheless prudent to retain the existing command structure. I’m not here to cause trouble, Captain.”
“I appreciate that.” His brief glance at me suggested that what he didn’t appreciate was my presence here. But at least he didn’t give voice to that opinion.
“What’s happened to the unit leaders we’re replacing?” I said.
“They were given last-minute orders to stand down and will be given duty next rotation. They’ll also be on standby if we lose any unit leaders during the next six months. Familiarity is very much a bonus when it comes to survival beyond the Pass.”
Suggesting he didn’t expect me to last long. But then, he had no idea just how good I was at surviving.
“How many are there in the division all told?” Donal asked.
“We’re thirty strong, which equates to six units. Five per unit seems to be the balance point. It gives the unit a greater chance of survival while still allowing some hope of slipping through the Wild Lands unseen.” He hesitated. “I lost well over half the scouting division last go-around.”
“That suggests a lack of training, Captain.”
“Six months of training will never ready miscreants and murderers for either battle or survival in the wilderness.” The captain’s gaze came to me. Though there was little emotion to be seen, and I wasn’t getting much on a deeper sensory level, it was nevertheless evident he considered me as unready as the miscreants—a point I couldn’t really disagree with. “I have no idea why you’re here, Princess Nyx, but I hope you’re aware that you’ll be afforded no luxuries or special consideration.”
“All I want is to be treated with respect. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
A somewhat ironic smile touched his lips. “Respect is won, not gifted. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
Which was a warning if ever I’d heard one. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“Indeed, especially given you’ll be expected to lead a small group of scouts into Skaran territory.” He paused. “These men are the dregs, Princess. They will test you, and if they think they can best you….”
He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. I was well equated with what men—and women—could do when they believed they had the upper hand. And in the pink plushness of my bedroom, that had been more common than not.
“Then someone had best teach me how to use blasters and the like,” I replied evenly. “Unless, of course, you’ve been instructed otherwise.”
“I’ll teach you,” Donal said, “when we’re off duty.”
“There’s an hour target practice allotted before each twelve-hour shift, but you’ll be wanting to sleep when you’re not on duty, especially until you’re used to the long hours.”
“No one needs to sleep twelve hours, Captain. There’s time enough to train.”
The captain raised an eyebrow, making me wonder if he had received some sort of order regarding me and weapons usage.
“Then be prepared to draw a curious crowd.” He pressed the halo around his ear and then added, “Hauler three loaded and ready.”
The door instantly slid shut and the secondary engine came to life. These haulers, like many other such vehicles—military or not—used a form of magnetic repulsion technology that drew on the energy lines crisscrossing Cannamore to move. But in cities as large as Divona—where there was heavy interference between the magnetic field and the exchangers not just in the form of buildings and roads, but in all the underground utilities—simple hover technology was used. Batteries and solar panels might have been quieter, but they were also far more expensive to install and replace. When it came to the outposts, sturdiness and reliability was the key.
Or so the Red Queen had once informed me.
The impeller roared to life, the sound not unlike a gale force wind. Despite the terminus being a place of stone, dust flew around the pod, cutting visibility to almost zero.
Almost.
Because between one wave of dirt and another, I glimpsed my brother. My stomach twisted and fear surged.
He stood in the middle of the terminus, untouched by the swirling clouds of gray, his right arm braced and his expression a weird mix of fury and satisfaction.
As our gazes met, he raised his left arm, made a gun with his fingers, and shot me.
Then he smiled.
A deep, satisfied smile.
I knew in that instant he’d decided to risk the wrath of Lokain and now had allies somewhere in the relief squad. Allies who would no doubt be well rewarded if I were “accidentally” killed in the course of the next six months.
I closed my eyes and tried not to panic. I’d survived twelve years of him doing his best to kill me, and I’d damn well survive whatever evil he’d unleashed within the ranks of these men and women.
Our hauler moved forward and took him from my sight. I crossed my arms, leaned back against the bench’s metal back, and did my best to ignore the churning tide of apprehension as I stared out of the window.
Though I’d freely roamed the breadth of Divona when I was younger, I’d been restricted to the castle grounds for the last twelve years. There’d been a lot of growth within the city in that time, and many of the buildings I’d known as a child no longer stood, replaced by taller, grander ones. The streets, too, had changed—they weren’t as pristine as I’d remembered, and were certainly a whole lot more crowded. Even the people were different, though how I couldn’t really say. Maybe it was simply the fact that there was no joy in their faces as they went about their everyday lives.
But then, there was little joy in the royal district, either. At least there wasn’t for those who served and protected. The king and my brother were not easy taskmasters, and lords and ladies of the court followed their lead.
It took half an hour for the military convoy to snake its way through the various levels, streets, and non-aligned gateways—a deliberate design to stop invaders easily moving from one level to the next. Eventually, though, we reached the massive metal gatehouse that was the main entrance on the Mauvaissian side of Divona. My heart raced as we moved down the long tunnel and then over the drawbridge that spanned the Merrigold River.
Freedom was close. So damn close.
The impeller units cut out the second we left the drawbridge, and the dust and noise faded as the magnetic exchange technology kicked in. The hauler surged forward with renewed speed and the landscape around us became something of a blur.
But it was a blur that had emotion crashing through me—emotion that was mostly disbelief and uncertainty, but entangled within those two was jubilation.
The impossible had happened.
I was free.
But even as that thought crossed my mind, fire flickered across the bracelets—an indication that control had switched from the king to Donal, and a stark reminder that I very much remained a prisoner.
Freedom was still a long way from being mine.
Donal glanced at my wrists and then me, and raised an eyebrow in silent query. I didn’t answer. While the restrictions the king had placed on me speaking about the bracelets and my life would have fallen when control switched over, I had no desire to share such intimacies in the presence of a stranger.
Which, in very many ways, Donal still was, but I at least trusted him. I had no idea yet whether the same could be said about the captain.
After a moment, Donal looked at the captain and said, “How long will it take to get to the Karva Pass?”
The captain shrugged. “It’s a three-day journey if the weather doesn’t screw us around. We’ll stop overnight at Druxdale and Uxa Waters.”
Both were places I’d never heard mention of, which meant they were probably milit
ary encampments. The Mauvaissians roamed the length and breadth of their lands for three seasons of the year, and only retreated to Rodestat—the Red City—for the harsher winter months. But Rodestat was never completely devoid of people, as it was positioned behind both the Karva Pass and the military garrison there. From what the Red Queen had said, there was not only the required number of Mauvaissian guards living within its boundaries but many others who chose to stay, either because of age or because there was coin to be made from an encampment of men and women who had little to do in their spare time but sleep, eat, drink, and fuck.
“And Druxdale is how far?” Donal asked.
“Fourteen hours, give or take an hour or so.”
Meaning we had a long day ahead. Thank the gods there were only three of us sharing the privy facilities in this pod. A wry smile touched my lips. I’d gone from simply sharing my body to sharing a bathroom and sleeping quarters, and it would definitely take some getting used to. But it was a trade I was more than happy to make.
I continued to stare at the window. The Mauvaissian plains were nothing more than a flat and endless wave of yellow grasses. It was a beautiful but sparse place, with little in the way of trees or habitations to break the lonely wildness. I had no doubt there were animals and other vistas to be found here, especially given the Mauvaissians had successfully carved a hunter-gatherer existence in these lands for as long as anyone could remember, but none of it was visible.
Which was undoubtedly intentional. Part of the treaty conditions between Divona and the Mauvaissians was a set course for any vehicular travel through their lands.
The day rolled on slowly. The captain offered us a ration pack around midday, which, while basic, not only eased my hunger but also saved the breads and fruits in my pack for later in the afternoon.
As flags of pink and orange heralded the arrival of night, the convoy finally slowed. I shifted position to get a better look of what might lie ahead but couldn’t see anything in the way of formal structures.
I glanced across at the captain. “Is Druxdale a settlement or a campsite?”
“The latter. We three share a tent tonight.” He regarded me steadily. “Is that a problem for you, Princess Nyx?”
“It’s only a problem if you think sharing a tent also means sharing my body. Try that, and I will gut you, captain or not.”
He stared at me for a moment and then laughed. “Interesting response from someone who has no fighting experience.”
“I mightn’t have formal training, Captain, but I suggest you don’t, in any way, underestimate either my abilities or my determination to survive.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t give voice to the disbelief I could see in his eyes. He simply glanced at Donal and said, “The camping equipment is stored in the hold under the impeller bay. You and Nyx will set up our quarters beside this hauler while I see to the rest of our people. Dinner will be at nineteen hundred. We’ll do the introduction to the rest of the team then.”
Donal nodded. The doors opened as the hauler came to a gentle halt and the captain immediately disappeared out of them. A few seconds later, he was barking orders and making arrangements for the overnight stay.
“Let’s go, Princess,” Donal said, and climbed out of the pod.
I didn’t immediately follow. Instead, I pulled my knife out of my backpack and strapped it to my right leg. While the need to keep it hidden remained—especially when I had no idea whether Vin’s assassin had been ordered to report back—I wasn’t about to go unarmed. The sheath at least kept the blade hidden, and few were likely to remark of the hilt itself, given it was not uncommon for ceremonial blades to have specially decorated or unusual hilts. A knife might be next to useless against the full weapon kits of the others, but it was all I had. And, to be honest, all I was comfortable with—at least until I got some training in gun usage.
I jumped down from the hauler but paused to glance around. Our vehicle had stopped in a small half circle rather than in a straight line, and there were close to thirty people in the immediate area, some setting up tents to complete the circle while others were erecting a makeshift kitchen and dining area in the middle.
Everyone had a job and knew exactly what to do, and it made me feel all the more useless.
I frowned and headed around to the rear of the pod. Donal had already opened the cargo hold and was in the process of pulling out a long, yellowish-green canvas bag.
“The tent, I presume?”
He nodded. “Grab the other end, will you?”
I did so, grunting a little at the unexpected weight of it. We carried it around the side of the pod and, with Donal instructing me, soon had it set up. The tent was oblong shaped and large enough to hold eight, with the sleeping platform held off the ground by sturdy metal poles. Maybe the critters I couldn’t see were more prevalent and dangerous than I’d been presuming.
The rest of the scouts’ portion of the night camp was soon set up. I followed Donal across to the tables and sat down next to him. We didn’t speak and no one paid any great attention to us, though I had no doubt they were aware of every little move we made.
Dinner was soon ready. We lined up with everyone else, were served a portion of meat stew and wild rice on a metal plate, given a slab of bread, and sent on our way.
When the meal was done and the plates collected by the wash crew, Captain Marx stood. Silence instantly fell—and that alone suggested Donal’s decision not to take this man’s position had been the right one.
“As most of you are now aware, Lord Donal and Princess Nyx have joined our ranks. They will be acting as my seconds, with Lord Donal being responsible for the princess’s behavior.”
Annoyance surged and I stood. “I apologize for the interruption, Captain, but no one is responsible for my behavior but myself. I grant that I’m little better than a raw recruit, but I’m willing and ready to learn, whatever it may take.”
The captain raised an eyebrow, but all he said was, “Fair enough, Princess—”
“It’s Nyx,” I said. “I left my title behind when I left the walls of Divona.”
“Nicely done,” Donal murmured as I sat down. The wind stirred around us as he spoke, making me suspect not even those who sat close to us would hear our conversation. “You just set a challenge for every man and woman in this squad.”
“If I’m to gain their trust and respect,” I replied, just as softly, “I can’t hide behind my title.”
The captain continued on, issuing various orders and assigning watch duty to different groups. It appeared the scouting division was responsible for the safety of the entire camp rather than our immediate area. Donal and I were given the three to dawn watch, which—given the few smirks I spotted—was obviously deemed to be the worst time to be out.
Finally, he read out the names of the people who would come under Donal’s and my command. If the murmuring that rose with one name—Dravan—was anything to go by, the captain had just shoved trouble my way. He was obviously intent on testing my resolve to be treated no differently to anyone else from the get-go.
When the captain had finished, people departed either to their various stations or their tents, leaving Donal and me sitting alone at the tables.
Donal snagged one of the coffeepots and poured us both a drink. “Tell me about those bracelets.”
The bracelets instantly warmed, a warning to obey what was meant as a request but came across as an order.
“They’re what’s called restraint bracelets.” The wind swirled and rose upwards, once again snatching my words away from all ears other than his. “They magically restrict my actions and words and force me to obey whatever order the person or persons who control the bracelets might give.”
For several heartbeats, he simply stared at me. There was little emotion in his face or his eyes, but I nevertheless had a sense of his shock.
“What happens if you don’t obey?” he asked eventually.
“It depends. If I’m orde
red silent and attempt to speak, the words are burned from my lips and my brain, and I’m left little better than a vegetable for more hours than I care to think about.” Despite my matter-of-fact tone, horror shivered through me.
“Is that what happened when you were thrown into the cell with me?”
A faint smile touched my lips. “No. That was a result of what is called witch fire and is little more than torture. It’s a heat that burns through you—through every single cell in your body—until it feels like you’re more molten ash than flesh. It can kill, but he would never go that far.”
“He being your father, I presume?” Donal’s voice was flat, emotionless, and yet there was disbelief in him.
“Yes.”
“Why? What did you do?”
Bitterness touched my lips. “I did the unthinkable. I did what I wasn’t supposed to do.”
He studied me for a moment, and then said softly, “You drew the King’s Sword.”
“Yes.”
A smile touched his lips. “At least now some of the wind’s whisperings begin to make sense.”
“She told you about that?”
“No. She only said that lies abound in the heart of Divona, and they are capable of destroying us all.” He took a sip of coffee. “Did your brother also draw the sword? Is that why he’s heir and you’re not?”
“He didn’t draw it when I did. Or rather, he couldn’t.”
“But he did a year later?”
“From a replica throne, not the real one.”
There was incredulousness in his expression, but no disbelief. And that warmed something deep inside. Something I’d long thought to be nothing more than ice. “So when your father said he was ceding his rights and his power to my will and word, he was actually handing over his control of you?”
“Yes.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
His lips twitched. “So if I ordered you to strip off right here and now, you would be forced to?”
“Yes.” I met his gaze evenly, even though my stomach was twisting and my heart raced so hard it felt ready to tear out of my chest. “Just as I was forced to bed every single man and woman my father wanted me to. Twelve years of no choice, Donal. Think on that for a while. And if you do order me to strip off or even fuck you, you had best also add an order not to take my knife to your throat in the middle of the night.”
