The Last Queen: The Book of Kaels Vol. 1 (The Book of Kaels Series)

by Wendy Wang

  “Come,” she said. The door opened and her sister Francie slipped inside. “Oh, sweet Jerugia, I’m caught.”

  Francie shrugged her slender shoulders and a mischievous smile twisted her lips. “No. She knows nothing of your escapades in the hills with Peter Declan.”

  “Then how is it you know?”

  Francie cocked her head, her soft, ginger curls framing her oval face. “How do you think?”

  “The servants.” Neala frowned. “Blast Linka — I knew she was too quiet when she helped me dress for dinner.”

  “She must’ve seen you return with him,” Francie said. She pressed her knuckles into Neala’s shoulder. “Scootch.” Neala scooted over to one side of the tufted bench. Francie took a seat beside her and picked up the silver-handled comb. “Turn ‘round and I’ll braid it for you.” Neala swung her legs over the end of the bench and Francie dug the comb into Neala’s scalp, dividing the hair into three sections. “So are you going to tell me about it or am I going to have to dig around in your head for it?”

  Neala crossed her arms. Like her, Francie commanded all five elements, only Francie was much more accomplished at some of the more mental abilities each element afforded. Neala had never been much of a reader of thoughts — a Wood Kael trait — but Francie could pluck a single thought from someone’s head as easily as plucking a ripe plum from a tree. She was also quite an influencer, a trait that as far as Neala knew was so rare only a handful of Wood Kaels could claim the ability. Neala had developed a little natural defense against her sister and mother — one of the effects of living with two of the most powerful Kaels in all the realms — by tucking her true thoughts deep inside her heart. So, Francie’s threat didn’t worry her too much.

  “What is there to tell? Did I leave the palace? Yes. Yes, I did,” Neala said, conveniently leaving out the part where she left unescorted. She shrugged, glad her sister could not see her face. “Peter accompanied me on a hike. That’s all that happened.”

  “Truly?” Francie said, her tone doubtful. Her usually nimble fingers tugged too hard on Neala’s hair.

  “Ow!” Neala reached for the sharp pain coming from her skull and Francie slapped her hand away.

  “Did he say or do anything inappropriate?” Francie asked.

  “No, of course not,” Neala said. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, it’s just…” Francie started. Neala could hear the hesitation in her sister’s voice as she searched for the perfect diplomatic response. Neala was so glad she was not the heir. If she had to worry about every word that came from her mouth, she would go mad. “There are rumors about him.”

  “Since when do you ascribe truth to idle gossip?”

  “Since there’s some truth to it.” Francie yanked on another strand of Neala’s hair, but thankfully, Francie was no longer working so close to her scalp.

  Neala braced herself against her sister’s strong hands and sighed. “What heinous thing has he done?”

  “I really shouldn’t tell you. It’s quite shocking,” Francie said quietly.

  “Jerugia’s crown, Francie!” Neala lost all patience with her sister, stood up and rounded on her. “I am not some baby that needs to be coddled. No matter what you and Mother think.”

  “No one thinks you’re a baby,” Francie said, her eyes drifting, looking anywhere but at her sister. “Maybe a little naive.”

  “I understand much more than you give me credit for.” Neala planted her hands on her hips.

  “I know you do.” Francie nodded her head. “Honey, I am just trying to keep you and your heart safe.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I know something of Peter Declan.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know he has had more than one indiscretion and has ruined at least one girl’s life.”

  “Ruined how?”

  Francie turned and placed her elbows on the vanity. A bud vase filled with pine and fir greenery and red berries was within reach and Francie’s fingers stroked one of the long pine needles. Neala scowled at her sister’s silence. She huffed but took a seat on the bench next to Francie.

  “Please tell me,” Neala said, using a softer approach.

  “There was an Ethavian girl. From what I understand, she worked for the governor as a maid. There was supposedly a flirtation that ended in a child.” Francie whispered the last two words as if to emphasize them. “It was quite a scandal and caused Madame Governor a great deal of embarrassment and I imagine, pain.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “When Peter was sixteen.”

  “So the child would be seven by now.”

  “Yes.” Francie nodded, her pale green eyes solemn. “Whatever you may think of Peter Declan—he is unattainable. No matter what he may say or do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Neala met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. They both looked like their mother with their red hair and delicate features. Neala’s only take-away from her father was her blue eyes. “I still want him to be my security officer. I feel comfortable with him.”

  Francie’s brow furrowed. “Do you think that wise?”

  “Probably not, but I think I can keep my head.”

  “Yes, but can you keep your heart?” Francie threw her arm around Neala’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m going to go get ready for bed.” Francie hopped up and was across the room and out the door before Neala could say anything more.

  ******

  The next morning, Neala escaped the palace and passed through the gate, just as she had the day before. A wall of a warden stepped in front of her. Tall and broad, he towered over her at nearly six and half feet. His reddish-blond hair and beard looked as if it had never seen a comb. Panic fluttered against her ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Where was Peter?

  “Good morning,” she said as she made her way around him. Dressed in her winter coat, scarf and gloves, she looked like any other citizen in Tamarik, not like a princess. If she just kept moving, maybe he wouldn’t recognize her.

  “Good morning, Your Highness,” he said, his long legs easily keeping stride with hers. “Where are we off to this fine day?”

  She stopped mid-step and planted her feet on the ground. How should she handle him? Taking a deep breath, she turned and smiled. “We are not off to any place in particular today. But thank you for asking. May you have a blessed day.”

  She returned to her original path, not giving him a chance to respond. If he ran to her mother, she would deal with it. Right now, all she cared about was seeing Peter. She had so many questions for him. This early in the morning, usually no one was on the streets but her and people going to work. His footsteps clomped behind her as she made her way up Dogwynd Road towards the bridge. The longer she walked, the closer his boots sounded. When she could take it no more she rounded on him.

  “Stop following me. That is an order,” she said, resting her hand on the hilt of her dagger. It was illegal to threaten a warden with a weapon so she didn’t unsheathe her knife, but hopefully, he would leave her alone.

  “Can’t do that, Highness. I’m afraid I have other orders that outrank you.” His head tipped—and was that sympathy in his eyes? Did he feel sorry for her? Anger flashed through her, hot and fast like a grass fire.

  “Whose orders?” Her jaw clenched.

  “Chief Commander Declan,” he said.

  “Cai,” she said under her breath.

  “Yes, ma’am. And if there’s anything I’m certain of in this world, you follow the chief’s orders or else,” he said in a lilting accent she didn’t recognize.

  “Or else what?”

  The warden shrugged and his mouth twisted into a scowl. “First offense - stocks. Second offense - solitary brig.”

  “What happens on the third offense?” he asked.

  “Nobody makes it to three, ma’am.” The warden shook his head. “All I’m here to do is my job. Please just let m
e do it.” His soft, green eyes pleaded, almost making her give in. But then she thought of Cai and her anger flared again.

  “What is your name Warden?”

  “Captain Gordon Gubler,” he said, bowing his head. “At your service Your Highness.”

  “Well, I do not need you, Captain Gordon Gubler. I know these streets better than I know my name and the people that live here would never do me harm.” She stared into his face, unwavering.

  A slight grin curled his lips, as if she’d just said something silly. “Well, the chief and I both would have to disagree with you on that point, ma’am. I won’t get in your way. I promise. But it’s imperative to keep you safe. Chief was very explicit about that, so that’s what I’m here to do.”

  “I have a security warden.” Her hands opened and closed into a fist over and over. She could not afford to make a rash mistake. “In fact, I am to meet him at the bridge. Now, you will excuse me.”

  “Can’t do that.” He shrugged his scarecrow shoulders and pursed his lips. “Sorry.”

  “Fine, you may accompany me to the bridge and as soon as I’m with my security officer you can hand me off. That sound fair?”

  “Certainly.” He nodded, his eyes and mouth full of humor. It made her want to punch him, hard in the gut, but she restrained herself. “I’ll even keep a little distance between us. You’ll barely know I’m there.”

  “Your prerogative.” She shrugged one shoulder and turned to continue on her way. Peter would take care of this; he would have talked to the chief by now. There was obviously a miscommunication somewhere in the chain of command. Unless Peter had talked to the chief and the chief had not assigned Peter to be her security officer. Panic squeezed cold fingers around her heart and she sped up her pace. She had to get to the bridge. Once she saw Peter there, all these ridiculous thoughts would dissipate and they would have a good laugh about her silliness. A quick glance over her shoulder proved that the warden could keep up with her and made her increase her pace again, to a slow run. In the distance, she saw the stone bridge. A carriage crossed and she craned her neck to see whether Peter was standing in the center as they had discussed. Once the carriage entered the city, the bridge stood empty. No Peter.

  Her heart plummeted to her gut and she stopped in her tracks.

  “Hmm,” the warden said from behind her. “Looks like he’s not here. Sorry about that, ma’am.”

  Neala turned on him and scowled. “Take me to see the chief.”

  “You sure ‘bout that? He’s really not in a good mood this morning. You may want to wait till it blows past.”

  “You think his mood is sour?” Neala said, using a warning tone usually reserved for her family. “Take me to him.”

  The warden’s eyebrows rose and he opened his mouth to say something, but shut it. He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Neala began to walk again, and with each step her fury grew and grew until she thought she might explode into a ball of fire right on the spot. The warden kept pace with her as they turned left at the bridge and headed towards the wardens’ base.

  As she advanced up the cobbled street, the black marble building loomed in the distance. Nothing about it matched the rest of the pale gold and cream-colored buildings in Tamarik. Most days when she walked, she avoided it because she did not like the ominous energy coming from the building. She knew, of course, that was the point—it was supposed to be intimidating, wasn’t it? A place that would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Neala walked across the street, her gait full of purpose and authority as she reminded herself that she was the daughter of the Queen and she had nothing to fear from wardens. A guard stepped out of the guard house to meet her. In one hand he held a clipboard, and he wore a crimson and gold band around his upper arm. He kept his free hand on his baton as she approached.

  “Good morning.” She gave him a smile, trying to be diplomatic. Honey, not vinegar, she could hear her sister say somewhere in the recesses of her mind.

  “Ma’am.” His face remained stoic as his eyes went over her body.

  “I’m here to see the chief commander.” The smile made her cheeks hurt, but she held it. Waiting for it to work.

  “Are you?” He glanced at his clipboard. “That’s odd. You’re not on my list.”

  “How can you know that? I haven’t even revealed my name.” Her smile wilted.

  “I have no women on my list, ma’am,” he said, his words a little too curt for her liking.

  “Is that so? Perhaps you should contact him, then, let him know I am here to see him,” she said, matching his tone and stance. “Now would be good.”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know who you think you are, but that’s not the way things work here. And I have strict orders not to disturb the chief today,” he said.

  “Jimmy.” The warden following her stepped up behind her.

  “Captain Gubler.” The warden sounded caught off guard and he threw his hand up in a three-fingered salute. The captain returned with a salute. “I was told you had a new assignment.”

  “Jimmy, I’d like to introduce you to Her Royal Highness, Princess Neala,” Gordon said. Jimmy looked from her face to Gordon’s as if he didn’t believe the captain. Gordon grinned. “My new assignment.”

  “Are you joking?” Jimmy asked.

  “No,” Gordon said, his voice dropping a half an octave.

  “Oh. Your Highness. I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you, please forgive me. If you could just wait, uh, one —” Jimmy held his hands up and walked away. He stopped and bowed to her before disappearing into the guard shack. Gordon chuckled.

  “Won’t make that mistake again,” Gordon said.

  “What mistake?” Neala asked.

  “Not knowing who you are,” he said. Neala scowled at him.

  The large, iron gate slowly opened and Jimmy peeked out of the guard house to wave them through. He looked as if he’d just been handed his backside on a platter and Neala wondered what Cai had said to him.

  Gordon led her through the extensive grounds up to the main building. Wide, black marble columns flanked the set of four double doors to the entrance hall. A double staircase with a balcony looked down to the gallery below. Paintings on the ceiling depicted battle scenes between the five realms before they had all been unified under one Queen. Neala stopped and stared upward. Her breath caught in her throat. The paintings moved. The battalion of the Queen’s army, the precursor to the wardens, rained down lightning in one scene and every few seconds flashes of electricity burst from the sky, striking their foe, catching their fields on fire, as the soldiers beat them back.

  “Your Highness,” Cai said, sounding breathless as he approached her. She had to force herself to look away from the painting. “This is a surprise.”

  All the fury she’d felt earlier had waned on her walk through the grounds, but it never took much to spark her temper and seeing Cai was tinder on the fire.

  “Really? You know what else was a surprise?” she said, her tone serious and laced with anger. “Having a new security detail assigned without discussing it with me.”

  “Clearly, I’ve made you unhappy,” Cai said.

  Neala raised her eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Come, let’s talk about this in private. Captain, please wait here,” Cai said.

  “Yes, sir,” Gordon said.

  Cai offered his elbow to Neala and when she didn’t take it, he frowned and placed his hand on the middle of her back.

  “Do not touch me,” Neala said, her tone a warning. Cai’s face reddened when she moved away from him and shook her head. For the first time since she’d known Cai, he looked uncertain of what to do. She had no doubt that he knew exactly how to handle any military situation, but an angry woman seemed to stump him. His eyes narrowed slightly but she knew immediately what he was doing. “And don’t try to read me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Highness,” he said. “After you.” He gest
ured for her to move ahead of him. They walked up the steps in stony silence and he guided her through the maze of corridors until they reached his office. Its magnitude reminded her of one of the smaller ballrooms in the palace but the crimson-colored walls made it feel cozier than a room of its size normally would. A balcony with glass-paned doors overlooked the quad of buildings that included the Warden’s Academy and two other structures. Even with the doors shut, the shouts of boys playing some sort of game echoed into his office. One wall was lined from floor to ceiling with books and if she’d come under better circumstances, she would have liked to look through the hundreds of volumes. On one side of the office a large, stone fireplace stood, flanked on either side by long, leather couches.

  “Please, let’s sit and talk this through,” Cai said as he settled into one of the couches. He stretched his arm across the back and propped his ankle on his knee. “Good to see your temper is as healthy as ever.”

  “Good to see you’re as imperious as ever,” she quipped, refusing to be intimidated by him. Neala sat on the opposite couch, sitting forward, elbows on her knees, hands folded. She didn’t take her eyes off him.

  “I take it you don’t like Captain Gubler?” He met her eyes with an intense gaze but she sensed no malice from him.

  “I have no opinion of him and I wish it to remain that way.”

  “It was my understanding you wanted a new security officer, so that’s what you have,” Cai said. She could hear him fighting with his tone, fighting against his need to make his order final.

  “That’s not what I wanted and you know it. I wanted…I wanted Peter Declan as my security officer,” Neala said.