Indigo shook her head. “It’s impossible. How can I defeat my own aunt?” The one who taught me the sword in the first place?
Dorju tapped Indigo’s arm, and made a sign with her paw.
Unused to politics as she was, Indigo knew Dorju had a point: there was one rabbit who might possibly help her.
* * *
She found him in the groom house.
More of a steam pit, the grooming warren was an earthen dugout covered by a thatched roof with a small hole in the center. Beneath the hole was a hearth filled with stones baked in fires until they shone white-hot, searing the very air around them. Herbal oils were poured on these stones until the occupants’ pores practically oozed with scent, and grooming apparatus hung in orderly rows upon the walls: brushes, clips, combs, nail picks, and files.
Indigo strode in, welcoming the blast of humid air that wrapped around her. It was tangible, like wrestling an enemy. There were gasps and shocked exclamations as naked bucks scurried to find their clothes. Separate grooming hours for males and females were strictly enforced, but Indigo was too upset to care.
“Father, I need to speak with you,” Indigo called out, recognizing Lukkas’s broad frame on the far side of the hearth. He had always been handsome, and her mother had joked that the only reason she could have snared such a husband was due to her throne.
She sensed rather than saw her father’s frown of surprised disapproval. “This is a male space, Indigo.”
She strode up and sat next to him, trying to ignore the discomfort of the heat and oil in her fur.
“You’re the only one she’ll listen to, Father. You have to change her mind.”
Her father regarded her for a moment before turning to the others in the bathhouse. “Forgive my daughter’s lack of manners. Please, everyone, if you could give us our privacy.…”
The bucks obediently began to gather their things and slip out. She recognized some of her mother’s cousins, a few of her father’s nephews. One of the last ones to leave was a particularly handsome buck, Nodin: the sword smith’s son and a distant relative of Kalmara’s by marriage. Indigo had caught him staring at her on more than one occasion, which had always secretly pleased her. His fur was slick from the humidity, and he was the only one who didn’t bother to cover himself. She blushed and looked away, glad when the door flap shut behind him.
Her father’s ears twitched. “You can have him if you want. Your aunt would approve of your first being one of her favored clans.”
“I didn’t come to talk of that.” She blinked condensed steam from her eyes, irritated that he would mention matchmaking at such a time.
He sighed. “There isn’t anything I can do, Indigo. You made your opinion clear: as queen you would lead us to war. No one wants war.”
“Alvareth queens were once legendary at war,” she argued. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
“That was generations ago. Since the Great Defeat the rabbits of the steppes only want peace. The Urzoks are too strong. We were nearly wiped out the last time we clashed. Or don’t you take your history lessons anymore since you thought you would become queen?”
Indigo bristled. She had skipped a few of the more boring lessons, but only to practice the sword. “That’s not the point, Father. The point is that she doesn’t have the right to do this.”
Lukkas tipped an earthen jar of water over the hearth stones, the resulting hiss like a reproach. “That’s where you’re wrong, daughter. The regent’s first duty is to Alvareth. You may be of age, but are you truly ready to lead the queendom?”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m ready. I’m of age! Or I will be once—”
Her father’s whiskers stood on end in a familiar expression of disapproval. “It doesn’t matter if you’re ready? What would your mother say to that?”
At this Indigo fell silent.
“You’re so eager to go to war that you haven’t thought what’s best for Alvareth,” Lukkas continued, more gently. “Or what the other queendoms want.”
“This isn’t about what they want, it’s what Kalmara wants!”
Her father shook his head. “It wasn’t your aunt’s idea.”
The realization sank into her like cold, and something inside her wilted. “You suggested it.”
“I did. And the other queens made no secret that they’d support the challenge.” He let the silence stretch between them for a moment. “Alvareth isn’t a lone wolf. It doesn’t do what it wants without considering the other queendoms. Have you even bothered to ask yourself: who will watch over Alvareth if its ruler is away?” He searched her eyes, then shook his head. “You have much to learn before you make a queen as wise as Kalmara.”
“And how am I supposed to learn to be a queen if Kalmara never allows me into the clan meetings? She ignores all my suggestions.” The sting of her father’s betrayal still burned hot in her chest.
“Perhaps,” her father said, “joining the Order will teach you what you cannot learn here. It pains me to see you leave, but isn’t it what you’ve always wanted?” He tossed another jar of water on the stones and let a curtain of steam rise between them.
They sat in silence for a while, the tension mingling with the heat.
“I had a dream last night.” Lukkas didn’t look at her. “Your mother came to me and said you would find the omatje on your travels. That you’d restore our family’s honor.”
Indigo glanced at him. She had never told him of her own recurring dream. Could her mother really have spoken to both of them?
“You blame Kalmara for what happened to your mother. But she did what she thought right.” Her father stood, blinking sweat from his eyes. “If you want to be queen, you must learn to do the same. Join the Order, avenge your mother and sister. Then you will be fit to lead Alvareth. I cannot persuade Kalmara to overturn what has already been decided.”
“She is the best sword slinger in the seven queendoms. How will I possibly defeat her?” Indigo protested.
Her father paused at the grooming-house flap, his paw on the heavy weave. “Perhaps you are not meant to, daughter.”
Chapter 7
The next day Indigo rose with the sun, knowing sleep was impossible. A strengthening wind had already scraped the sky to a clean, hardened blue. The prairie grass bent and danced, making newly hatched insects cling like dewdrops to the blades.
Today she would face Kalmara. Kalmara, her aunt, the one who had taught her the sword as soon as she could walk. She had spent a fitful night trying to think of some strategy that might work against the Bird, but couldn’t come up with a solid plan. She also couldn’t shut out her father’s words, the painful knowledge that he doubted her ability to rule.
As she watched the grounds being cleared and swept for her initiation, she suddenly realized Kuno had joined her, a chunk of half-eaten barley bread in one paw.
They stood in silence for a moment, each knowing the other’s worries without saying a word. The years suddenly melted away, and Indigo realized with a shock that she felt more comfortable with Kuno than she had with anyone since Azel.
None of this would be happening if Azel hadn’t died. Indigo was fourth in line, never meant to be crown princess, much less queen. But she knew now she wanted the queendom, wanted to live up to those legendary warrior queens as much as she wanted to sink her blade into that muskrat. But could her father be right? Was she not deserving of the throne? What if only the Order could make her a hardened fighter, a warrior with enough skill to not only hunt down an omatje but also earn the throne?
She spotted Kalmara, Lukkas, and her sisters readying themselves at the far end of the grounds, where royalty traditionally sat. The other queens were there as well, eager to watch this internal quarrel within Alvareth’s royal house. She made her slow way over to pay the obligatory respects.
When she clapped her paws to Kalmara, the queen regent smiled at her, but her eyes were sharp, as if searching for signs that her niece might back out.
“This day is as hard for you as for me, Indigo. I hope you know this isn’t personal.”
Indigo swiveled her ears. “It’s for the good of Alvareth. I know.” The words tasted bitter.
“I told your father you’d understand,” Kalmara smiled. “Now I’m sure you have as much to prepare as I do.” And with that dismissal she turned and strode away to greet the other queens.
The crowd of onlookers had thickened, pressing in on the sides and jostling for a view. The cleared area had been cordoned off with cloth markers, which cracked and popped in the stiffening wind. Indigo spied Uldana, the sword tutor who would act as judge, triple checking the wooden swords to be used during the fight. Her apprentice followed at her heels, taking commands and bobbing his head at her instructions.
Kuno picked his way through the crowd, ignoring curious stares and half-audible whispers. He joined the royals in their allocated spot and gave a nod of encouragement to Indigo.
Indigo turned back to the present task. She wondered, for just a moment, whether things would have been better if Kuno hadn’t shown up, hadn’t saved them from the Pacified wolves. Perhaps she could have fought them off, and Kalmara wouldn’t have this excuse to keep the throne from her. But there was no use in focusing on such things. Burnt grass couldn’t be made sweet again. She picked up her wooden blade, tested her arm guards, and went through the motions of checking everything for tears or fractures, though she had already checked them multiple times that morning.
Kalmara entered the ring, her royal robes gone. In their place was casual fighting garb, tucked tight into supple boots. She motioned to a servant, who hastened to raise a horn to his lips. The three blasts drew a silence over the crowd, and for a moment only the snarling of the wind could be heard.
The queen regent held up her sword. “Welcome. I call upon the six queens of the steppe lands to witness today’s fight and the pact I have with Crown Princess Indigo. Alvareth’s future shall be determined by today’s combat. If Indigo should win this fight against me, she shall be entitled to the Alvareth throne, and no one here shall stand in her way.” The queen regent paused, making sure she had everyone’s attention. “If, however, I win, Princess Indigo will forever forsake the Alvareth throne, and I shall be sworn as queen until my death.”
A murmur rippled through the gathered spectators.
Kalmara turned to Indigo. “Do you, Crown Princess, accept these terms?”
Indigo drew a deep breath, knowing that giving in to her resentment would only affect the fight. “I do.”
Kalmara smiled. “Then let us begin.”
A gong sounded. Shouts and eager speculation rose around them, the placing of bets and the cries of encouragement growing steadily louder. Indigo walked out to the center of the grounds and watched Kalmara take her place.
They had sparred countless times. But this, both knew, would be different. This would shatter what tenuous familial affection remained between them. They regarded each other, the wind tugging and clawing at their fur, their garments.
“The Bird shall not grant mercy, Princess. Royal blood or no,” Kalmara said, her voice soft so only Indigo could hear.
Indigo gripped her sword hard. “I shall not ask for it.”
Kalmara gave the hint of a smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to, niece.” She signaled to the gong striker, and the instrument boomed once more.
The two combatants circled each other. Though Indigo knew her aunt’s sword play better than almost anyone, she had never truly fought her. She knew the regent meant what she said: she would give no leeway.
Like a hawk, Kalmara struck, sword raised.
The first thunderclap of wood on wood reverberated up Indigo’s arm and into the base of her skull.
She forced herself to block out the shouts and taunts that assailed her from the sidelines. Her aunt lunged, and Indigo’s distraction meant she missed the telltale shift in Kalmara’s body signaling a feint. She dodged the practice blade’s sharp end but couldn’t escape her aunt’s free paw ploughing into her shoulder. A collective roar went up from the audience, though Indigo couldn’t make out the supporters from the doubters.
The Bird was enjoying this, Indigo realized. As Borla had always said, Kalmara only chose fights that she was certain to win. And public wins were particularly sweet, especially when so much was at stake.
Kalmara shifted the blade in her paw and swooped. Indigo took it as a good sign that the Bird was constantly bringing the fight to her rather than waiting for Indigo to tire herself. She parried, trying to see the plan behind her aunt’s movements—a good fighter must always have a plan. The best ones plan at least five moves in advance.
Indigo kept her sword close to her body, knowing the Bird’s specialty was to find openings when least anticipated. One mistimed attack, and Kalmara would have her blade tickling Indigo’s ribcage.
She parried several thrusts before realizing her aunt was trying to tire her out on her weaker side—her left. And it was working. Even though the Bird danced and flitted constantly, while Indigo tried to stay more grounded, her arms were growing sore, her back burned, and her legs were threatening cramps. The wind wasn’t helping either—it battered her in the face, stung her eyes. She couldn’t help thinking of everything she would be losing: the throne, her mother’s legacy, her identity, her home. She needed to get the regent off her own weak side, and soon. But how?
The wind shifted, chasing a mass of clouds across the sun. Shadows fled and shrank as objects and faces became whitewashed for the few breaths the sun broke through.
The Wind.
The Wind had won his bride by covering the sun.
Good or bad, it was a plan. Indigo made a deliberately clumsy swing, careful not to leave herself undefended. Kalmara easily blocked her with the sword’s forte, before lunging in for several blindingly fast cuts. Indigo retreated, making a show of breathing heavily and giving all indications of buying time. Which was true, up to a point.
With a look that was almost disappointment at impending victory, Kalmara advanced. Indigo kept retreating, giving weaker resistance as she moved in a semicircle. A few jeers reached her.
“Give up already!”
“Take her down, Bird!”
“She’s running away! That’s cheating!”
She steeled herself, forcing the voices out of her ears and head. She needed to stay focused if this was going to work. She needed to convince her aunt to take the bait.
She chose her spot, trying to keep an eye on the sun and her ears tuned to the wind. Timing would be everything. If Indigo misjudged any one of three things, Kalmara would walk away the uncontested queen. How long had it been since the sun disappeared? How much cloud cover had blown in? The Bird was closing in, convinced now that her niece had exhausted herself and was only delaying the kill.
Indigo made her move. She stumbled to a point where she judged the sun to be directly behind her. She didn’t have to wait long. Kalmara attacked, ready to end the match and Indigo’s hopes for the throne. She knew her aunt would use one of her favorite end moves: either an easy thrust on the outside to disable Indigo on her weak arm, or a reverse stab to the chest. She just needed a little help.…
There!
A dagger of light shot out from behind a cloud. The warmth grazed Indigo’s head and plunged directly into Kalmara’s eyes.
Indigo moved like a greased ferret. The Bird didn’t have a weak side, but having committed to her lunge she couldn’t change course. The blinding sun blotted out her target for just an instant, but it was all Indigo needed. She sidestepped and then grabbed her aunt’s outstretched sword arm at the wrist. A quick wrench and a well-placed kick to the back paw, and she had Kalmara off balance. By the time the regent could react and try to twist away, Indigo already had her wooden sword tip at Kalmara’s side, angled into her abdomen.
Indigo panted, truly spent. Her aunt looked up at her, first with shock and then angry disbelief. The gathered crowds were similarly stunned, u
ntil Indigo noticed a faint drumming that built and grew until it was a roar.
Thousands of rabbits’ feet were drumming applause for a contest the likes of which they’d never see again.
The princess turned towards the royal seats. The other six queens had obviously not expected this outcome, and their expressions showed grudging admiration. Next to her, Kalmara was outwardly calm, but a telltale flush of rage was spreading at the base of her aunt’s ears. Uldana the judge entered the ring. The drumming subsided.
“Well fought,” Uldana declared, clearly impressed at this upset. “Do you, Kalmara, freely admit and attest that Indigo, Crown Princess, did best you fairly and without any cheating?”
Indigo saw her aunt hesitate, her mind clearly trying to comprehend defeat. A heavy silence descended, all ears trained on the queen regent.
Kalmara slowly raised a paw in the symbol of surrender. “Let it be known that the Bird is defeated.”
The crowd erupted into further stamping of feet until Uldana waved them back into silence. “I declare the Crown Princess the victor, and Indigo, daughter of Delamar, shall be sworn Queen of Alvareth.”
The world tilted and thunder filled Indigo’s ears. Alvareth’s cheers seemed to shake the very ground.
The gong sounded, clear and decisive, before its last tones were swallowed by the roar of the onlookers. Indigo looked for her sisters and found them sitting next to a grinning Kuno, their faces bright with pride and relief. She saw her father’s face, a smile masking his concern.
“You’re a fool if you think you can be queen from afar,” Kalmara said. “You lack political sense.”
“I don’t plan to rule from afar,” Indigo sheathed her sword. “And fortunately, I know someone with great political sense.”
Kalmara looked confused, suspicion rising under her calm demeanor.
Indigo turned to where the other queens sat with her sisters and Kuno, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd. “The Order has named me, and I shall go. Therefore my first act as queen is to appoint a regent to rule Alvareth in my absence.” An expectant silence fell over the grounds. She looked at Lukkas. “Alvareth needs a strong paw at the moment. One stronger and wiser than mine.”
The Queen and the Dagger (A Book of Theo novella) Page 5
