by Emily L K
“What happened?” Cori asked, her voice was thick. She tasted the blood on her lips.
“You had a fit.” He stood. Not wanting to be on an uneven footing with him, she rose as well but swayed.
Orin pressed his hair back from his face then reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders again, giving her a little shake. Cori lowered the cloth.
“No more magic,” he told her. “None, or I will send you back to Resso.”
“Good luck with that,” she muttered. She wiped some more blood from her face and glared at him. He was being dramatic. How would he handle battle if he couldn’t even stomach a little nose bleed?
“I’m deathly serious, Cori,” and she could tell he was by his rigid stance and the hard glint in his eyes. “You are not fighting in this war, and you will not use magic again. You are a liability and the last thing we need is a dead Karaliene.”
She shrugged awkwardly, unable to disagree with him on that last statement, much as she wanted to. Her title was the only thing that kept the Advisor from making a legitimate claim on the throne. Orin stared at her intently, still clutching her shoulders. A prickle of unease ran down her spine at his intensity.
“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”
He reeled back, surprised. “What? No!” Then after a pause, “Are you expecting me to?”
Expecting. Relief mingled with her embarrassment. He’d said expecting, not wanting. Which meant he didn’t want to kiss her any more than she did. She shook her head, and his hands dropped away. An awkward silence filled the tent and Cori studiously avoided his gaze. Orin retreated a few steps and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Then he turned to leave the tent.
“I’m going to tell Father what happened.” He said abruptly.
“What? No!” Cori darted forward and grabbed his arm with her free hand.
“Yes,” he said bluntly and wrenched away. He left, and Cori returned to sit on the cushions with a sigh of resignation. She had found Bretton. Tobin couldn’t be too mad when she told him that. The blackness was still there but it was slowly receding. Her insides ached as if she’d been lifting sacks of flour all day. She was at a loss and didn’t know what to do. She wanted to fight, wanted the Advisor‘s neck between her hands as she ripped his head from his body, but in all likelihood, she wasn‘t going to make it beyond the gate at the rate she was going.
Orin’s earlier rebuke was nothing compared to the verbal thrashing Tobin gave her when he arrived. He took one look at her blood-smeared face and let loose a string of expletives that made even Cori wince. He reinforced Orin’s order that she wasn’t to participate in the fighting and threatened, not just to send her back to Resso, but to do so in chains and with six lashes across her backside.
Cori took the tirade in silence - he wouldn’t have heard her over his own bellowing anyway - and when he finally stopped, chest heaving and face red, she met his eyes evenly.
“I found him,” she said quietly, “I found Bretton, and he’s coming here.”
That gave Tobin pause. He struggled to find words and finally jabbed a finger at her.
“Doesn’t change anything,” he snapped before turning on his heels and leaving the tent. Orin gave her a stern look before following his father. Cori made no move to follow them; the whole camp had probably heard Tobin’s roaring, and she was in no mind to face them yet. With a sigh, she dropped her face to her hands.
Some time later a servant arrived with food and a basin of water. It must have been the same servant who had brought the cloth earlier because the woman’s eyes darted anywhere but Cori.
Thank you," Cori watched as the woman set the tray and basin on a low table by the cot. She averted her eyes when the servant bowed to her; their deference was no less awkward with time, but Tobin had insisted she let them wait on her. When the servant was gone, Cori shuffled to the table. She went first to the basin of water and dipped her hands in it. Warm. She smiled; Orin mustn’t be too angry with her.
The water on her face was refreshing, but when she lifted the hand mirror, she found only a ghostly version of herself staring back. Her cheeks were gaunt and pale, the usual bright blue of her eyes dull like the dirty amber colour that veined them. Dark skin circled them. She tossed the mirror aside angrily and reached for the food.
After she’d eaten, she decided to find Orin and apologise. Outside her tent she was surprised to find her way her was path blocked by two guards. She‘d so far convinced Tobin that she didn’t need anyone guarding her, but it seemed he’d changed his mind.
“I’m only going next door,” she said when they blocked her path. She pointed at Orin’s tent and they exchanged wary glances.
“Oh, come on,” she muttered, “one of you can go straight to Tobin and tell him if you must.” Still they hesitated. Her fingers twitched at her side and she had the sudden urge to push them away from her. She tightened her hands into fist and pushed them into her pocket. How did someone assert their authority without magic? Finally they stepped aside. She thanked them, but they still followed uncomfortably close behind as she took the few strides to Orin’s tent.
She let herself in unannounced, glancing at her shadows as she did, hoping they didn’t intend to follow her within. Thankfully, they stayed outside and when Cori turned to face Orin, she wished she had too.
He looked up from where he sat at the edge of his cot, his eyes rimmed red from crying. In his hands was a worn bit of parchment and he folded it in half as Cori stared.
She took a step backwards, intending to leave, then stopped. Orin had been by her side through all of her grief. The least she could do was offer him some comfort in return. She moved awkwardly across the tent and sat beside him.
For a few moments they sat in silence. Beyond the canvas of the tent the camp bustled in its preparation for Shaw’s arrival. Murmured conversations passed close by. Further out horses whinnied and swords clanged together in the slow movement of practice. Orin handed her the piece of paper.
She held it in her lap and unfolded it carefully. The parchment was brittle, a sign it was handled often. On it was a colourful sketch of a dark haired girl with equally dark eyes and puckered lips that were lifted in a pretty smile. Even through the picture Cori could see the amused glitter in her eye and the dimples in her cheeks.
“That’s Yasana,” Orin’s voice broke. “She’s the love of my life.”
Cori put her finger to the parchment and traced the wave of black hair that fell over Yasana’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” Orin agreed and she could hear the smile in his voice, “and she has the gentlest soul.”
“Not like me,” Cori said absently. She folded the parchment and handed it back to him. He laughed and bumped his shoulder playfully against hers.
“No, nothing like you. Though I’m sure you could be gentle if you wanted to.”
“I never met her,” Cori remarked, ignoring his jab. “Does she not live in Bandar Utara?”
Orin’s expression sobered, and his eyes dipped to the portrait in his hand, though he made no move to unfold it again.
“She lives in Bandar Utara,” he said finally and with unease. “My father sent her away when you first arrived in Resso.”
Cori’s stomach sank, but she still had to ask. “Why?”
“The lady Cori is of an age with you,” he imitated his father’s voice well, “would it not make a powerful marriage?” He laughed bitterly, and she looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. Orin reached out and squeezed her knee. When she lifted her eyes to his, he was smiling. “Lucky for me,” he continued, “it was evident someone else had already stolen your heart.”
Rowan. Again her heart ached painfully at his absence. “How did you know?” She whispered, and he shrugged.
“The way you looked at him and the way he looked at you, well, it was like you could read each other’s minds.”
Cori averted her face to hide her smile, and her tears. Oh, how close to the truth
he was, and yet how had their feelings been so painfully obvious when Cori herself hadn’t even been sure of them? “Why didn’t you introduce me to Yasana when I came back?”
Orin scowled. “I would have,” he muttered. “My father let her return to the keep after he realised that there was no hope for you and I while the Karalis was around, but when you returned alone,” he shrugged helplessly, “he sent her away again.”
“I’m surprised you don’t hate me,” Cori said with downcast eyes. He bumped his shoulder against hers. She met his eyes, and he smiled.
“How could I hate a person as kind and generous as you’ve been?” he joked.
“Shut up,” she muttered. They were silent for a time, each caught in their own thoughts. Her relief was tenfold after his admission of no romantic feelings towards her. Things would have been tense, especially now she considered him a friend.
“About earlier...” She began hesitantly.
“When you wanted me to kiss you? Sorry, but you‘re just not my type,” he lifted his chin haughtily and Cori shoved him away with a scowl. He fell off the edge of the cot with a laugh. She stood to leave, pausing for a moment at the tent flap.
“Your father isn’t still expecting you to court me, is he?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Orin said from the ground. He made no move to rise, rather he propped himself up on his elbow, expression solemn. “As soon as this war is over, I’m going home to marry Yasana faster than you can send my father into a hot rage.”
“That’s pretty fast,” Cori agreed with a smile then stepped into the sunlight and between her two guards.
SENTRIES SPOTTED RIDERS approaching the camp close to dusk. Cori changed to a fresh shirt and leggings before donning her leather Karaliene vest and joining Tobin, his nobles and most of the soldiers at the edge of the camp to wait for Shaw’s arrival.
The horses came fast; two dozen of them galloping up the road and kicking up great clouds of dust behind them. The leaders of the cohort reined in sharply before them, their mounts spinning and rearing. Dust swirled up around them and members of Resso‘s party called out to those of Shaw then the familiar barrel-chested shape of Bretton appeared before them and at his side, formidable in her stance and with a knife at her belt, was Saasha.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cori felt as though a knife had been driven through her chest. She knew Saasha had gone to Shaw. She also knew Rowan had tasked her with telling Bretton what had happened at the palace. But she hadn’t expected her sister to come here, to look so whole and healthy and fierce in her soldier’s attire.
As the dust cleared, Saasha’s eyes unerring found Cori’s. They widened in surprise and her mouth opened, silently forming Cori’s name. Cori couldn’t move, but Saasha did. She left Bretton’s side, breaking into a run before colliding with her younger sister.
“Oh, Cori!”
A sob escaped Saasha’s lips. Cori wrapped her arms around her sister, her head lowering to Saasha’s shoulder. She inhaled deeply; Saasha smelled like coffee, leather and home. She couldn’t remember a time since the palace riot she’d felt this safe. Over Saasha’s shoulder, and obscured by her sister’s dark hair, Cori could see Bretton shaking hands with Tobin.
“Well met, Tobin,” Bretton said with a hearty smile. He was still as large as Cori remembered, though his blonde hair wasn’t as well kept and he had tired circles beneath his eyes. “It was kind of you to show up.”
“Well, one would have thought you could handle this on your own, Shaw,” Tobin retorted, but his grin was just as wide as Bretton’s. Both laughed, then Bretton looked around curiously.
“Tell me, where’s the Karalis?”
The atmosphere instantly sobered. Cori kept her face buried in Saasha’s hair to avoid looking directly at Bretton. Tobin glanced her way before saying lightly, “we’ll discuss it later.”
Saasha pulled away from the hug. She framed Cori’s face with her hands and searched her eyes. Saasha looked so much like their mother. Cori's heart pinched at the sight. Everything from her dark hair to the concerned creases at the corners of her eyes.
“What happened to your eyes? You look awful, Cori,” Saasha observed sternly. She glanced at Tobin and Orin before adding, “have they not been looking after you?”
Orin frowned, and Tobin scowled. Cori gave her sister a small smile, placing her hands over Saasha’s and pulling them from her face.
“They’ve cared for me exceptionally well. I’ve only myself to blame for the state I’m in.”
“I’m sure you’d all like to rest after your long ride,” Lady Bellia offered sensibly. The noblewoman had hands on her hips and Cori glimpsed her contemplating herself and Saasha. Bretton thanked her graciously. Once more there was a flurry of activity as Saul and Enya took charge of the men that had travelled with Bretton while the head of Shaw, his son, an advisor and Saasha followed Resso’s party back to the tents.
Tobin’s tent wasn’t big enough for all of them so the servants stoked a large fire for them to sit around and share platters of fruit, cheese and cured meats. Bretton’s party had brought fresh bread, something Resso’s army hadn’t baked often since Cori had increased their pace.
While servants built up the fire she watched Tobin lean in close to Bretton and in a whispered brevity, explain what had transpired so far. They both threw concerning glances her way and though their words didn’t carry, she heard mention of her solo return to Resso. She wasn’t exactly sure what had been said, but by the concerning glances that Bretton kept throwing her way, she guessed that Tobin had also made mention of her solo return to Resso.
When the servants finished their tasks and retreated, Bretton addressed the group at large. Cori listened without interrupting. Orin was to one side of her and Saasha on the other. The sisters sat cross-legged with their knees touching and their arms loosely around each other’s waists, seeking each other’s long awaited comfort.
Bretton spoke at length about the developments at Lautan. The Advisor had declared himself Karalis, ruler of Tauta, and had reinforced the wall around Lautan, much as they’d already suspected. The Hiram of Shaw hadn‘t been able to topple with their magic so Bretton‘s army had withdrawn to build siege weapons within the safety of their own borders.
Hale’s army was within the walls, as was part of Hearth’s. Though rumour had it that the Hearthians didn’t seem entirely content with their position in the war. He also had news of the Islanders.
“They all arrived on their boats, pulled into Lautan’s harbour and unloaded. Then the next day they packed up and went home.” Bretton scratched his head as if it still confused him. “Apparently Daze’s nephew - what’s his name?”
“Quart,” Cori offered quietly. Bretton nodded. Saasha glanced at Cori but said nothing. Cori found his name surprisingly easy to say. In the wake of the heartbreak of losing Rowan, her feelings for Quart – both the infatuation and intense hatred – felt like an almost forgotten memory.
“Yes. Quart rode in from the north. Told everyone that his uncle had been killed in combat and that he was now the Head of the Nomad Isles. Told everyone to go home, that he’d have no part in this war.” Bretton turned to Tobin, “Was it your lot that got Daze?”
“No,” Tobin said slowly. He smoothed his fingers thoughtfully over his beard and surveyed Cori. “Daze had the unfortunate honour of crossing paths with the Karalis.”
“Is that so,” Bretton said, equally thoughtful. His gaze also found Cori, though he appeared troubled. Having their twin scrutiny on her was uncomfortable and she let her eyes drift down to the flames.
“Shall we talk strategy?” Cobra proposed. Tobin sent servants to get maps and Bretton sent his advisor to get his saddle pack that held all the notes Shaw had taken on the war so far. Saasha leaned towards Cori. “Can we talk in private for a few minutes?”
Cori nodded, and they stood. Orin rose on her other side and followed them back to Cori’s tent. Saasha gave him an odd look when he accompanied them i
nside but Cori smiled and shrugged.
“I’m sort of under house arrest, or tent arrest, you might say,” Cori explained to Saasha.
“You can’t even have a private conversation?”
This time Cori’s smile was sad. “There’s nothing private about my life anymore. Anyway, you can trust Orin.”
“If you say so.” Saasha watched Orin sceptically. Orin narrowed his eyes in response but still said nothing.
“What did you want to talk about?” Cori drew Saasha’s attention away.
“Your eyes,” Saasha said, “what’s wrong with them?”
Cori and Orin exchanged a glance. “I’ve run out of magic, for lack of a better term.”
“Do you want more?”
Cori shook her head, “No I don’t know... Wait, how did you know I can get more?”
“The Karalis told me.” She waved her hand almost dismissively, and Cori experienced a hot stab of jealousy. “He taught me the song you need to know.”
“He did?” Cori said, shocked. In the same breath Orin’s head tilted, confusion narrowing his eyes. “A song?” He queried.
“It’s how I use my magic,” Cori explained distractedly. “I weave songs with energy." She held out her hands to Saasha. "Sing it to me.”
Saasha didn’t question the command, though she looked taken aback. She hummed the tune with her lips. Cori frowned as she listened and tried to replay the song in her head. It was disjointed and nothing more than a collection of notes. Her Hum tried to work around it, filling in gaps, but it might have well been a tavern song for all the sense it made.
“There’s some missing,” she said when Saasha finished, “it only sounds like half a song.”
“He said you’d know the rest.”
“I don’t. He never taught me.” The brief hope she’d had melted away to be replaced with uncertainty. Why would he teach Saasha half a song and not teach her the rest? Why wouldn’t he simply teach the whole song to her?
