by White, Gwynn
Farith shot him her trademark scowl and smacked the seat next to her. “Sit.”
He slid in next to her, thus forcing Anna to sit in front with Mom. It lessened the odds that, by accidentally touching him, she’d turn him into the jabbering idiot Farith so rightly accused him of being.
Axel revved the engine and then shouted, “Clay, it’s your shoulder that’s holed, not your legs. Move your butt. We don’t have all day.”
“Winds!” Clay laughed. “Lynx, how do you put up with him? After all these years, he’s still a slave driver.” He broke into a trot and jumped up onto his chosen spot on the back fender. His good arm grabbed a bar that ran over the top of the vehicle. Hanging on precariously, he shouted, “Axel, we haven’t got all day. Move your butt.”
Axel chuckled as the vehicle whined. It lurched forward into the night-black tunnel.
The air hung dank and heavy over everything. Although he couldn’t see them, the stone walls seemed to press in on him. They muffled all sounds except the hum of the engine. After driving for what seemed an age, in the distance, he caught snatches of laughter and the high-pitched squeal of children. He peered ahead and spotted a flickering light.
The closer they got to it, the easier his breathing became. Finally, they reached a brightly lit passageway jammed with people as far as the eye could see. Their cries of joy made him shiver. He doubted they greeted Mom and Axel like this every time they returned to Treven, so their excitement had to be for him.
How was he ever to live up to so much expectation?
They reached the throng and Axel slowed the vehicle to a crawl. Someone tossed a posy at him. Women with babies on their hips waved. Soldiers saluted him. Young children holding flowers darted in front of the vehicle to get close enough to him to throw their posies at him. Men with hard faces shed tears. Although the people were close enough to touch him, none did.
He was grateful for that.
Mom leaned back and squeezed his knee. “Feel honored, Nicks. A generation of Trevenite children have grown up in these mines. With every inch of viable space used for growing food, they’ve never seen flowers like these. But now that the guardsmen have gone, ordinary Trevenites were able to leave the mines for the first time in two decades. They’ve chosen to shower you with the blooms they’ve picked.”
Lost for words, he hunched down in his seat. How the Trevenites must have longed for revenge for all that had been stolen from them. Not in his wildest dreams, or worst nightmares, could he imagine living for decades in this place. It made his year-long stint alone in the dark slaughterhouse insignificant by comparison. Dmitri expected him to assign blame for their suffering, and then to mete out the justice to recompense them for the crimes committed against them. How he was to judge, he didn’t know.
“You’ve lived in the dark, Nicholas.” He flinched as Dmitri’s measured voice spoke in his head. “You’ve known what it is to have your freedom wrenched from you. You have a good heart. Allow it to lead you, and the rest will follow.”
He looked around but didn’t see the seer. I didn’t know you’d be here today.
Dmitri chortled softly. “And miss my Light-Bearer’s homecoming? I don’t think so.”
Someone tossed a garland at him.
It hit Farith’s shoulder instead. Almost reverently, she laid it on her lap. Her lips brushed his ear. “Cowpat, ignore your Mom. The last thing we need is for all the adoration to go to your head. Remember, they don’t know you like I do.”
He could have hugged her for reducing him back to “normal” again. Instead, he smiled and whispered, “That I’m an idiot most of the time?”
“Exactly that.”
Another chortle from the seer. “Stubborn, too. If I may add.”
He ignored the quiet intrusion and continued his whispered conversation with Farith. “How did they know we’d be coming down this tunnel?”
Farith’s face locked up. “Didn’t you read the memo? You’re a hero,” she said tersely.
It suddenly made sense. He knew exactly why Farith and Anna’s parents weren’t at the airship to greet them. They didn’t need to be. He folded his arms defensively across his chest. “It’s something to do with cameras and informas. Isn’t it? My arrival is being broadcast across this place.”
He expected Dmitri to chime in, but he said nothing.
Farith shredded one of the flowers in the garland. “You will have to speak to the warlord… I mean the Lord of the Conquest about that.”
He swore under his breath. “As much as I appreciate the flowers—and I really do value them… If everyone can hear my thoughts… us speaking, I will not be happy.” He glared at the back of Mom’s and Axel’s heads.
Not that it helped. Given the noise from the vehicle and the crowd, they wouldn’t have heard this conversation. Still no comment from Dmitri, either, although he sensed the seer’s presence in his head.
His mouth twisted and his eyes narrowed, but because he didn’t want the people to think it was them who’d displeased him, he shook his long hair over his face to hide his scowl.
Farith brushed his hand with warm fingers. “Stop hiding. People want to see you, not your rats’ tails.”
He tossed his hair over his shoulder and flexed his fingers over his knees. “I hate this,” he mumbled, so only she’d hear.
“I understand,” she mumbled back, “but see it from our perspective. You are the Light-Bearer.” She picked up the garland and reached up to put it on his head.
Just like a crown.
He gasped and jerked back. “Stop it! I don’t wear crowns. Men like Lukan and Xipal do, and look how that turned out for the world.”
She grabbed his tunic with one hand and hissed, “Like it or not, Cowpat, Treven is free today because of you. Lukan would never have pulled his troops out if he didn’t need them to protect him from you. So shut up and wear this garland with the same respect that my people put into making it for you.” She rammed it on his head.
The crowd cheered even louder.
“Wise girl, that Farith. Meka picked well. You really should listen to what she says.” Dmitri spoke mildly, as if nothing of great import had just happened, until he added, “A crown suits you.”
He sucked in a shocked breath mixed with a cloud of pollen. Doing his best not to cough the horrible thing off his head, he wiped his nose on his sleeve. Only once he was able to breathe did he shoot back, You cannot be serious.
“Light-Bearer!” Dmitri said sharply. “You are His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince of All Chenaya and the Conquered Territories. If you stop whining for long enough to successfully fulfill my curse, you will be the new emperor.”
The blood rushed from his face so fast it made him lightheaded.
“You look as if you’re about to throw up on everyone,” Farith hissed. Face as dark as a thundercloud, she glowered at him.
Could this day get worse?
He scrambled for something to say that didn’t include any of Dmitri’s news. “I—I still don’t want people hearing my thoughts.”
Farith punched his side. “Oh, lighten up and stop moaning. Axel may have exploited your suffering when you were in prison to help us fight a war, but he’s not a monster. Even he has limits. Only your little speech in the hangar was broadcast. And trust me, no one here wants to hear you privately drooling over my sister. It’s enough that us close to you have to see it.”
He blushed until even the tips of his ears burned. Unable to cover his shame with his hair, he answered stubbornly, “He still should have asked me.”
She shrugged like his opinion didn’t matter. He was rapidly coming to realize that it didn’t. “Would you have agreed?”
Winds, no! “That’s not the point—”
“It’s exactly the point,” Farith interrupted. “How else could he have let all thirty thousand of us witness your arrival if he hadn’t done this? And yes, you heard correctly, there are only thirty thousand Trevenites left in the world. We were once a
nation of millions, but that’s what a Chenayan occupation, followed by twenty years of living in this mine, will do for you.”
More flowers rained down on him. He waved at the children, then surreptitiously pinched Farith’s leg. “I’ve told you before, guilt doesn’t work with me.” But it certainly gave him perspective on what the Trevenites had lost and the type of revenge they were probably seeking. Not to mention the financial compensation they probably sought to rebuild their country. Did the empire even have that amount of money?
She pinched him back—even harder.
“Such double standards,” he hissed, as yet more flowers were tossed at the vehicle. “You can behave like a wild cat, but I can’t even frown.”
“My name’s Farith,” she scoffed. “They expect it from me. And I know guilting you doesn’t work. I’m just stating facts. And the facts are that we aren’t the only people to suffer. Lukan destroyed Lapis, too, because King Jerawin joined the alliance.”
No doubt the Lapisians also sought vengeance and recompense.
His jaw clenched. He may have been good at math, but not when it came to working out those sorts of numbers. How did one ever pay enough to rebuild shattered families and lives?
Unable to cope with the enormity of it all while he was also supposed to be gracious to his hosts, he changed the subject. “When was the broadcast arranged?” With his hearing, he would have heard some mention of it on the airship.
“While you were sleeping. It was the only way.”
Betrayal deepened the glare he was trying so hard to hide. Desperate for refuge, he shifted carefully so his hair fell over his face without dislodging the crown.
What else had been discussed while he slept?
“Cowpat, scowling is my job.” A sharp sweep of Farith’s hand and his hair flew back over his shoulder. “Yours is to look otherworldly. A mythological being on a divinely decreed mission. That’s what these people want to see.”
He laughed hollowly. Otherworldly? Dmitri, how the hell do I do that?
Dmitri chuckled but didn’t offer any advice on achieving otherworldliness. Or on how he was to make right what Lukan and Felix had ruined.
He huffed out a breath and settled for staring out at the people as they drove by.
No one met his gaze, but that didn’t stop them chanting his name and throwing those incredibly precious flowers at him. To him, each one signified a death—an irreplaceable sacrifice—way beyond the value of the mere plants. By the time the vehicle reached a set of steel doors set in the rock face, his sorrow for the sheer waste Lukan and Felix had wrought had given him a blazing headache.
But even here people had gathered to give him flowers.
Axel idled the vehicle with surprising patience while the line of Trevenites shuffled forward to drop their offerings on the pile of flowers spilling off his lap and onto the floor around his feet. Only when the last child had run off giggling did Axel park the vehicle.
“This is it. The medical wing. Life will look a lot better when your ice crystal is gone,” Mom said over her shoulder. Her eyes widened, probably at the crown. A gentle hand cupped his cheek. “Cheer up, my Nicks,” she whispered. “You can take it off once we get inside.”
She knew him so well.
He cracked a smile. “That can’t come soon enough.” Conscious of his boots crushing the wilting blooms carpeting the floor around him, he shuffled to the edge of his seat.
Mom hopped down and stood in front of him. Everyone else had vacated the vehicle, so he was alone with her. Unable to climb out with her in the way, he looked up at her questioningly. She chilled him with her eyes. “I hope you trust me enough to know that I will never use you, no matter how much it may appear that way.”
He chilled her right back with his own eyes. Or at least he hoped he did, but with Mom, one never really knew. “You heard my discussion with Farith?”
“I don’t have your ears, Nicholas, but I know the son I raised is no fool. You’ve guessed that we broadcast your homecoming, and you don’t like it.”
“You should have discussed it with me first.” He glanced at Axel, who was making his way through the crowd to the steel doors. He stopped repeatedly to talk to people. Nicholas lowered his voice even more. “And I’m not sure he always shares your view about not using me. He has an at-any-cost approach that’s sometimes at odds with what I think.”
Axel knelt to accept a very wilted flower from a little girl. He ruffled her hair and pinned the flower into a buttonhole on his grimy uniform.
Mom’s face softened as she watched him. Even the scars she’d somehow acquired since his capture didn’t seem as harsh. On the trip from Tarach, he’d asked her to tell him how she’d gotten them, but she’d deflected. He sighed at yet another thing hidden from him.
She turned back to him. “You’re not wrong about him, Nicks. Axel is no snowflake. Before you were even conceived, I said that to my father, your grandfather, whom I desperately want you to meet. It’s as true now as it was then. But if it wasn’t for his—” She smiled ruefully. “What shall we call it? His drive, there would have been nothing in Treven for you to come home to.” Her eyes pierced him. “Please reserve judgment on him until you have the full story. Right now, he’s the one seeing the big picture. You aren’t.”
He resisted the urge to brush her comments away with a hand wave. “I’d love to meet my grandfather. But that’s not the issue here. If you’d included me in the planning instead waiting for me to sleep, I would be seeing the big picture.”
All trace of Mom’s softness vanished. “As I’ve already said, I didn’t raise a stupid son. Think about that before you judge us, Nicholas.” Unexpectedly, her lips brushed his brow. “Now let’s get that Winds-cursed ice crystal out of your neck.” She grabbed his hand and started walking. He fell into step with her. The crowd shuffled into a human arch as they approached the hospital doors. Following Axel’s example, he stopped to thank each person who stood with arms raised for him.
“Better. Much better.” Nicholas wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such approval in Dimitri’s voice. “Your venerable grandfather—King Thorn—would be proud of you.”
He almost snorted at the emphasis on the word king.
“Aye. You noticed, did you?” Dmitri chuckled. “Then allow me to reward you with a thought. Ask yourself why King Thorn isn’t here today to meet his famous grandson.”
Good question, Nicholas shot back as he knelt to smile at a little boy with a handful of crushed flowers. There could be a hundred reasons. Does my good behavior earn me the answer?
“It does. Listen carefully, Light-Bearer, because this is very important.”
Typical of Dmitri to choose a time when he was supposed to be talking to people to share important stuff. He suppressed a sigh and tried to ignore the litany of praise and thanks coming from the crowd so he could focus.
“In a failed attempt to destroy the alliance, Lukan burned your mother’s face with a poisoned gas called Dragon’s Fire,” Dmitri said. “That also explains the similar scarring on Axel’s cheeks. Norin, where your grandfather is king, is vulnerable to attack with that same gas. Especially as Lukan has recently used it again in Zakar Province. As much as your grandfather longed to greet you in the hangar, for the sake of his people he has deferred that pleasure until after you see the doctors. He hopes to see you then.”
It took Nicholas a moment to decode Dmitri’s words. He almost yelped out loud, only stopping himself by biting his tongue. Warm, salty blood drizzled down his throat. Lukan can get into my head?
Dmitri said nothing.
With so much to process, he wasn’t sorry for the silence.
If Lukan had access to his ice crystal, Lukan would know his—and the alliance’s—every move. Any hope of surprising him was gone.
No wonder I haven’t been included in any planning. And if his ice crystal wasn’t removed, he never could be included. That made his and everyone else’s sacrifices seem pointless.
&
nbsp; No longer able to even keep up a pretense of talking to people, he walked stiffly to the hospital doors.
Axel swung them open. He held his hand out. “After you, son.”
There was no judgment in his voice. No question about his love, despite Nicholas’s personal curse that made Axel’s life so much more difficult. Even Mom, Clay, Farith, and Anna, who followed close behind, showed no anger, although they must have known that he couldn’t be trusted. Not really. Not when Meka had been captured due to his ice crystal.
He paused before passing through the door. “I get it now,” he whispered as if speaking softly would stop Lukan hearing him. “I still question some of the things that have happened today, but I understand why my opinion wasn’t sought.”
Axel gave him a one-armed hug. “Then let’s fix it, shall we.” As warm as Axel’s embrace was, his brow bunched. Clearly, he knew something about the meeting with the doctors that Nicholas didn’t.
Four
The Conniving Spymaster
Felix sat bolt upright on his hard, unforgiving bench in the airship brig. The roar of the engines had finally stilled for the first time since leaving Tarach. He guessed they had landed in Treven, although he had no window to look out of to confirm his assumption.
Now all he could do was to wait to be released. To what, he didn’t know.
None of the family had visited with him or Katrina.
In truth, he hadn’t expected Axel or Lynx to call, but he’d hoped Malika and the grandchildren would come.
They hadn’t.
And as for Nicholas—
He snorted to clear his sinuses. His handkerchief had been lost in Tarach, and no one had bothered to supply him with a fresh one.
Yet another offense to nurse.
Katrina squirmed on her bench on the other side of the cell. To stop her fighting him and the guard who brought in food, he’d been forced tie her to the bench with his belt. The guard had offered manacles, but he could not bring himself to manacle his beloved Katrina. Also, he deserved the stray punches she’d managed to land on his face before he had restrained her. If it wasn’t for his fallout with Lukan, she wouldn’t be in this situation. If he’d been at the palace, never in a million years would he have allowed the dolt to hijack the high-borns’ minds? Not that he would ever admit his culpability to anyone but her.
