“Is it a granted animal?” I asked: to no one apparently, because Cyric didn’t acknowledge me. He kept his gaze ahead, his body perfectly erect in the saddle. Only a few soldiers trailed ahead of him, and that had been at his permission.
I scoffed annoyance.
The horse turned its head to me, strangely cocking its ear. Cyric took notice then, glancing down and tightening his grip on his reigns. When he saw that it was me that had drawn the horse’s attention, he darkened and spurred it on. I almost tripped at the sudden increase of speed.
“I asked if he was a granted animal?” I repeated.
“What?” Cyric sounded actually confused, but still incredulous.
“Your horse. It’s obviously magical. Is it a granted species? A country Lox destroyed maybe?”
Cyric snorted, but said nothing.
“I suppose you intend to ignore everything I say.”
“You want to be friends?”
“Never!”
“Good.”
The horse whinnied beneath him. I turned my attention to the space around me; anywhere but Cyric. The land was plains, and plains, and more plains. The city of Karatel was well out of sight. I could barely make out some of the captives behind a cluster of soldier-bearing horses. There were obviously captives of every eastern race, and a fair number from Karatel as well. I heard a laugh and my eyes refocused on a soldier, mounted nearby and pointing between Cyric and I.
When he saw me watching, he hesitated, and then he bowed his head. I nearly tripped at the shock of it; once the length of rope tied to my hands caught up to me I did trip. My horse halted, then Cyric’s. He sighed exasperatedly before he’d even realized that I’d been the one to cause the hold, then he just looked viciously angry.
While I rose to my feet—with some trouble having no hands—the others moved past us.
“Get back on the horse,” Cyric instructed tersely.
With a scowl I moved towards it, my sore heels grateful—until I realized that that would be obeying Cyric. I stopped beside the horse.
“Did you hear me? I told you to get on.”
I averted my gaze. Some of the soldiers were looking in our direction. I couldn’t help but notice Cyric glance back to consider them when his name was mentioned. He swore. Someone laughed.
He jumped down from his horse, his boots crushing grass to ruin. He reached for my rope. I pulled my hands away, but then his horse made a sound and in the distraction he grabbed my waist, two hands on either side, shocking me so that my body went limp instead of defiant. He sat me up onto my horse, then untied my hands. My heart started beating faster. I didn’t even think to resist as he pulled my arms forward, and the next thing I knew my hands were tied together and to the saddle. He turned back to his horse without a word, mounted it, and led us back to our position at the front; this time he went out ahead of everyone, and yards beyond.
My stomach was a knot. I could still feel where he’d touched me on my stomach like icy points. I wanted to sink against the horse, or into the ground.
I repeated all the evil things he’d done over and over in my mind. I thought of all the people Akadia had hurt. I thought of Ceras, digging his nails into the sand, and finally then hate began to drown out everything else.
#
We reached Akadia the next day, in the late afternoon. Cyric had driven the lot of us on with barely four hours rest, and no proper camp. From the moment the red rock appeared, till I was being paraded through the golden streets of glistening buildings, everything seemed distant and blurred. The many torches, the sounds of cheering, the tokens being cast towards the soldiers. I’m sure I didn’t want to see it all. Cyric’s countenance remained as somber as ever, until we reached the foot of the palace, where a woman in a vibrant blue dress waved to him. She was by no means the first to do so, but he immediately jumped down from his horse, abandoning me and the rest of his charge to go to her. My stomach contorted when he took her hands in his, then he spun her in a circle, obviously appreciating her dress. She was something far beyond striking. Her hair was dark, and full, tied back into a clean loop. Her skin was a perfect contrast of olive-red; it glowed against her dress, and with many points of opportunity.
A palace guard approached Cyric amidst his smiling and playing. Lingering onto one of the woman’s hands, he spoke seriously with the guard, gesturing back to our procession more than once. The cheering Akadians had lessened since we’d entered the palace district, except for the many handmaidens which were absorbing the soldiers’ attention. My focus was returning to me in the worst way, the glowing torches against the cool dusk of the dessert. Gold everywhere, mosaics, gems, luxurious clothing, rich colors.
I forced myself to scoff away my tears as the palace guard went inside to speak with another soldier. Cyric turned to the woman again, this time whispering in her ear. I looked around me and realized I was only tied down by two horses, mine and Cyric’s—for all that this mattered now that I was inside Akadia. For the first time I noticed Cyric’s dark horse really looking at me. Where his eyes were all black before, I thought now I saw faint silver. I narrowed, then Cyric reappeared, pulling at my horse’s reign.
“Get down,” he told me. I realized the other soldiers were dismounting as well, and heading back into the procession to collect captives and spoils. I also noticed that the beautiful woman in blue had disappeared. She was no longer even where she had been by the fountain.
So she had been waiting for him after all.
“I can’t,” I said; it sounded more like a sullen complaint.
Cyric’s gaze lifted to me, where before he had been distractedly pulling papers from a pack on his horse’s saddle. I tugged at my arms, hardly believing he could have forgotten what he’d done himself and more than once, but he must have, because he sent off a fresh wave of annoyance, then reached to untie my hands. Once he had, he led his horse off to the side of the street, shouting orders at a nearby soldier.
He came back, obviously expecting me to have dismounted. His eyes landed on me, full of distaste, not the way he’d been looking at the other woman, nothing like that.
I dropped down and he immediately passed the reigns of my horse to another soldier. I saw that his was already being led back down the road.
“Where are we going?” I asked, mostly out of fear; but he paid me no attention. I hugged my arms, which my newest dress left bare at the shoulders. Other soldiers led captives and trunks into the front of the palace. I had half a mind to think tribute was about to be paid to the king, but Cyric stayed waiting and watching the others. Then, the woman in blue reappeared across the way. I realized now that she was taller than me as well as much more shapely. Cyric waved to her and she came close.
“Here you are,” she said, handing him a velvet drawstring bag, about the size of a fist.
He glanced inside of it, then thanked her.
“Is this her?” she asked, her gaze shifting to me. Her eyes were bright with an interest that was almost captivating, even to me. She spoke with a subtle accent which only told me she was just as much a traitor to her country as Cyric.
Cyric looked back at me with her question, his eyes grazing me up and down, as if he had just realized I existed and hadn’t been riding beside me, looking just as I did now, for days. “Yes,” he answered, turning back to her. He adapted a smile then, and moved closer to her. “After I’m done here, I’ll come to find you.”
Surprise registered on her features, but she grew a matching grin. “With all of this to present, that might be a while.”
“Are you going to watch?” he asked.
She shrugged. “A little. Until I get bored.”
“I wish I had that luxury,” he complained.
She laughed and flicked a finger at his papers. Her eyes found mine again before she turned. All I could define about them was that they were difficult to hold with confidence. Cyric checked again inside the bag she’d given him, then he nodded back to me and tipped his head towa
rds the palace.
I hesitated.
“Shall I call for soldiers?” he asked.
I thought of being dragged before King Molec, who I’d never met, in comparison with walking behind Cyric. I also thought of Lox, declaring before everyone in his hall that I was the princess of Shaundakul. And they hadn’t questioned it—to be bowed to by a passing soldier had confirmed that. But even if the soldiers took Lox on his word, I had doubts that a king would accept me without proof. It hadn’t been so in Yanartas. I certainly wasn’t acknowledged in the eastern kingdoms. There was a good chance that Lox was going to end up looking the fool here, and I had no qualms about helping that along.
I shook my head curtly. Cyric behaved as if he hadn’t needed the response to go on. He ascended steps, past pillars in practiced form, passing the rows of tributes. Inside, surrounded by glassy floors and carved stone walls of vibrant color, a wide staircase led up a story, then divided into two directions, but on either side of the steps, they were heavy doors, now opened. Cyric walked towards these. He stopped at the entrance, turned back and gave directions to a nearby soldier. I was just wondering what they were (all these orders he gave) when I felt two hands grab my wrists. The guard he’d spoken with pulled me back from the door, then held me beside a pillar. Cyric had obviously been the cause of it, for he didn’t respond at all to my cries for help; then he disappeared into the bright chamber beyond.
I gave up struggling after only a few seconds, by now exhausted with the pointless effort. Before long, groups began to enter the room Cyric had, captives or spoils from the procession I had travelled with. One after another, after another. The soldier guarding me gave up holding me at some point and tied me to a pillar instead.
It must have been hours later, and the only thing besides me that hadn’t been taken into the next room were the scorpios because they’d been dropped off in another district entirely.
A guard appeared in the doorway, no one familiar to me, but his gaze showed surprise when he saw me, or maybe something else that I couldn’t identify. He cleared his throat, and told the soldier to have me untied.
Once I was free, he said that I should follow him inside. It sounded more like a question than an order. I couldn’t bring myself to reply, but with hopes of Lox’s embarrassment prodding me onwards, I gestured consent.
He bowed, which gave me daunting, then walked through the door. The entire chamber beyond was utterly silent. It was a large room, clearly the throne-room, which I’d suspected. The floor was sparkling marble. The ceilings high, with golden rafters. And large, golden pillars lined the floor on either side, leading up to the throne. Almost every inch of the chamber was full; with captives, or Akadians, loot, soldiers, or councilmen, but no one spoke a word. The steps of myself and the soldier leading me were the loudest, and all eyes followed us in. He stopped within seconds, then he gestured me forwards.
There was only one clear path, leading up to the head of the chamber and the throne. Standing to one side of it was Cyric, his rugged look of a warrior contrasting the room and those nearest him. There were two thrones, both occupied. One holding a man with reddish-brown hair and one a woman in an exuberant dress.
I couldn’t imagine how, but it wasn’t until this moment, seeing Molec, that I remembered he was the father of my late friend, Tobias, and my Yanartian trainer, Lucian.
In my hesitation, whispers surged around the hall. Cyric’s eyes beckoned me more than anything. I walked forward, trying not to hold my head too high so as to reinforce Lox’s claim, but finding it difficult not to in the situation. The gown, and the hall, the royalty, lords and ladies; all reminded me too much of my true identity.
I walked past Cyric, his eyes following me the whole way. Then I told myself to bow, as a princess of a betrayed allying kingdom would not—but I couldn’t because even if they didn’t find out I was the princess, they knew I was a Cirali Warrior. And a Cirali Warrior would not bow before such a king.
I met his eyes square on, easily seeing Tobias and Lucian within them. And then I heard gasps.
#
The gasps came from all directions. The king’s features went wide in shock, even the queen’s. I didn’t know what had happened. I turned around—
And Cyric was standing right behind me, his expression smug, though as I narrowed in confusion his features showed something else: Distance, then darkness and warmth both at once. I couldn’t explain why, but it made me touch the top of my head. Almost as I’d expected I felt a crown. I pulled it away and saw bright, shining turquoise. I could hardly believe that I was seeing it; my crown. I’d thought after I’d dropped it in my fall from the temple that I’d lost it forever. With this in my possession, I could prove myself. Any of the eastern kingdoms would believe. I felt a wave of relief, then a wave of disappointment.
I turned around to see the king was standing. “You truly are the princess of Shaundakul,” he exclaimed.
So, Cyric had already spoken all and explained all; he’d only needed to prove that I would cause the jewel to appear on my crown. Which he had. I felt my fists tighten.
“How can I be princess of Shaundakul?” I seethed. “When you destroyed that country?”
“Careful princess,” I heard whispered behind me. Whether he was serious or teasing,
I couldn’t tell, I dismissed his voice.
The king smiled and clapped once; his delight seeming genuine. “What happened in Uldin Keep was an unfortunate occurrence, albeit necessary, but for the first time its sting has been greatly eased. Daughter of Solidor, you are most welcome in Akadia.”
His words snapped my memory to Tobias’s death. Lox had said something similar, and he’d repeated it to me in my nightmares: Daughter of Solidor. Daughter of Solidor, indeed.
“Lox has truly won a great prize this time,” Molec murmured. Others about the room nodded in agreement. Before I could speak in argument Cyric stepped past me.
“He has, and in appreciation of his tributes… in recognition of his success and in order to grant you many more, he asks that you approve his request to produce his new weapon here in Akadian.” After giving the king a moment to absorb this, Cyric went on. “The one used to such effect in the battle of Selket, where the princess was won.”
“What?” I demanded, interrupting the king’s response; if he was going to give one. I turned on Cyric. “You can’t mean the weapons that were used against the chimera?”
Cyric’s gaze flicked from me to the king. “The Princess Ellia witnessed them herself. She might be able to describe to us how well they worked.”
I felt my blood boil, but I wouldn’t take this opportunity to hit him; it was too important that I deter Molec.
“King Molec,” I interrupted, turning to him. “I can assure you, having witnessed it myself, that this machine is a monstrosity. You cannot allow more to be made.”
“She says that because she’s been too long in Yanartas. She’s grown deep and perhaps undo affection for the chimera. She forgets that they are our enemies.” Cyric still didn’t meet my gaze, and he was fortunate. Molec frowned.
“That’s right. You’ve become a Warrior yourself, haven’t you?”
I clutched my crown. “Yes, but I have never fought your people without cause: Either because they were unjustly attacking another kingdom, or in self-defense. None of the Warriors have.”
Molec met my eyes carefully, measuring me in a way that helplessly reminded me of Tobias the first time we’d met. “If that’s just behavior in your opinion, wouldn’t it be acceptable to build these weapons that can kill chimera? For our own self-defense.”
“The Warriors would never attack a granted animal!”
“Tell that to the Wyverns,” Cyric remarked.
The nearest in the chamber laughed, and it rolled on and grew throughout the whole hall—even coming from those who couldn’t have heard Cyric. It seemed enough for these people to laugh simply because he’d meant for them too.
Molec took a ste
p closer to me. “Princess Ellia, I can see that you are in great distress. Such matters as these weapons can wait in light of your presence. As the king, and ally to your father, I desire us to speak more of how we may make things right between us.” He scoffed, gesturing around the room, then speaking softly. “Perhaps a less crowded venue.”
“You won’t make the weapons?” I asked with surprise—and excitement. I spared a victorious glance at Cyric, but he was looking with thinly-veiled distaste at Molec.
Molec waved a hand. “As I said, it can all be dealt with at a later time. Lieutenant Dracla and I will work out the details. I’m sure that would be acceptable to Lox, Cyric?” It was strange to hear the king address Cyric by name. While I expected it for myself, it wasn’t as if Cyric were royalty. Akadia truly did think highly of its soldiers if a king was so informal with a lieutenant.
Molec and Cyric shared a long glance. Finally Cyric nodded.
Molec turned to me. “Is this acceptable to you, Princess?”
I didn’t understand why Molec seemed so interested in appeasing me. Was it possible that he didn’t know what had really happened in Akadia? Why else would he order my father killed, but then befriend me? Then again, I wondered that very same thing about Lox. Not that Lox was befriending me, of course he wasn’t, but he had allowed me to live.
“So long as the chimera weapons don’t get built, I am very pleased,” I said. I could hardly believe I’d been able to have such a positive effect already. If my presence in Akadia kept these weapons from being built, if only that, it felt worth the pain of being separated from Luffie.
Molec nodded understanding, then he waved a hand and a band of minstrels struck their instruments and began to play gentle music that filled the hall. “Now that that’s settled,” he said, going back to sit on his throne, “we can move on to your presence here, Princess. Since you might be in Akadia, well, indefinitely, you’ll need arrangements. I expect you to take quarters in the palace. Nothing less for the daughter of my old ally.”
Fallen Kingdom (Fallen Trilogy book 2) Page 6
