by Keri Arthur
Speculation briefly flared in his eyes. “You don’t wish to share? Even after I’ve showered? I’m deeply wounded.”
“This from the man who not a few moments ago stated he had no desire to tumble another lady of this court.”
“Indeed. Princesses, however, are always a different matter entirely.”
Amusement briefly stirred. Despite his words, it was obvious that whatever this man truly wanted from me—be it freedom for his people or something darker—sex wasn’t part of the bargain. And that was a very nice change.
Whether it would remain that way after he’d gained control of my leash was something I’d know soon enough.
“Take the bed, highlander, and take your ale with you. I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I fear, is going to be an interesting day.”
“Indeed.” He grabbed the flagon and pushed upwards. “It’s not every day a disgraced highlander lord and a princess of Cannamore are banished to the border for six months. It will undoubtedly cause a stir amongst the troops.”
I had a bad feeling it would be my presence more than his that would cause the stir. Given I hadn’t known who he was, it was unlikely any in the relief force would. But they’d all know me—maybe not my reputation, because those of the court would never share such gossip with common folk—but they’d certainly know me by look. I was very much my brother’s twin, even if smaller in stature and female in form.
And that would undoubtedly cause problems in the weeks ahead.
But all I said was, “I hope you’re not expecting special treatment, because the king is rarely the type to grant such favors.”
“Oh, I’m fully aware of just how little your father is willing to cede. Thankfully, his daughter does not share the same unwillingness.” His smile flashed as he bowed rather grandly. “I thank you for your kind gesture of gifting me your bed.”
“You’re quite welcome to it, believe me.”
It wasn’t like I ever slept there anyway. In fact, I’d curl up on ice before I’d ever willingly climb into that bed.
He must have caught the edge in my words, because once again speculation stirred in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything; he simply gave me a nod goodnight and walked across to the sleeping platform.
I reached for a nearby blanket, tugged it over my body, and then shifted slightly so that one foot touched the warm tiles. Through them came the soft pulse of the earth. It was a strong, calm heartbeat of power—one that had kept the faint threads of hope alive in the darkest hours.
Despite Donal’s presence in my room, sleep came, and for once, neither fear nor the memory of past degradations invaded my dreams.
We were woken on the cusp of dawn by guards delivering two backpacks and clothing for Donal.
Once they were gone and breakfast was had, I donned my old leather pants and boots, then tugged on a tunic and a hooded, weatherproof vest. In one of the packs, I stuffed two changes of clothes, some toiletries, and the bread and dried fruits that remained from our meal. Finally, I put the one thing in this entire apartment that meant anything to me: the glass knife my mother had given me—in secret—on the eve of the earth initiation ceremony. She’d said it had been given to the firstborn female in every generation of her family and was a symbol of the power that had once been theirs—and might one day be again.
Like the King’s Sword, it was made from a blue-white glass that was all but indestructible. The blade was straight and had obviously been designed for close combat as much as throwing. It was also more elaborately decorated than the King’s Sword, and had ancient runes running the length of its blade. This was the only indication that it was more than just an unusually made blade—it was, in fact, one enhanced by both earth magic and real magic. What exactly the runes said or did, I couldn’t say. My mother had simply stated they were designed to protect, but from what had been long ago lost. And it wasn’t like I could ask the king or my brother; doing so before I’d drawn the sword would have revealed the knife’s presence—something my mother had bid me never to do—and afterward, I didn’t dare. In the week that had followed her death, the king had destroyed absolutely everything in the castle that had been hers—burned anything that bore her likeness or retained her memory. Everything except this blade and me.
I had no doubt he was currently plotting ways to rectify the latter.
The one thing I did know about both this blade and the King’s Sword was that they could be used as a breaker between the earth power and the user. By plunging either into the ground, you could channel the earth’s energy to or from them, and thereby lessen the risk of being torn apart by the forces flowing through you.
I raised the knife to the light filtering in from the windows. Deep within the blue glass, a fiery pulse beat—one that not only matched the rhythm of my heart but spoke of its connection to the earth. I might not be able to access that power thanks to the bracelets, but the earth had not abandoned me as she had the king and my brother.
But that heartbeat had also been evident when my mother had held the blade and, for the first time, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d at least been capable of hearing the earth’s voice. Though she’d never given any indication of it, she’d been born in Gigurri—the last remaining stronghold of earth mages. And her sister now ruled that place alongside her earth-capable husband. If Mom had been able to hear the earth, it would certainly explain why she alone had been able to stand up to—and win—against the king.
But if that were true, why had she taken her life rather than fight his decision to deprive me of the throne? She’d spent my entire life standing up for me—why wouldn’t she continue to do so at the one time it mattered most?
Or was it perhaps simply a matter of knowing this was one battle she couldn’t win? That the king would make her pay an even greater price than he’d made me pay?
Whatever the truth, I hoped she was now in far better place than death and a pauper’s grave had given her. Hoped that if she had been capable of hearing the earth, she was now part of that greater consciousness.
Because if she was, there was a chance I would one day be with her again.
I blinked against the sting of tears, tucked the blade securely into my pack, and then hoisted it over my shoulders.
Donal came down from the sleeping platform. Though I hadn’t taken much notice earlier, he’d been given the black uniform of a commander rather than the brown of a regular soldier. He was also fully armed.
Perhaps the king was actually going to do the decent thing for a change and slot him into a position befitting his station as a highlander lord.
His gaze skimmed me and came up frowning. “Why are you wearing old practice leathers?”
“Because they’re all I have that is suitable for such a journey.”
“But your father—”
“Is an asshole who will give his unwanted daughter absolutely nothing.” Nothing except unwanted partners, that is.
“A statement that deserves an explanation,” he growled. “But I’m guessing it will not be forthcoming.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips. “You learn fast.”
“In a family of ten, you need to.” He waved me forward. “Lead the way, Princess.”
I spun around and headed for the door. “I do have a name, highlander.”
“So do I. When you use mine, I’ll use yours.”
“Fair enough.”
The door opened as we neared, revealing four guards instead of the usual two. Perhaps the king believed Donal wouldn’t hold to his word. Although, given he and his brother had taken care of both Lord Brannon and seven of his guards, these four weren’t likely to dent Donal’s plans if he had been inclined to run.
We were led swiftly from the building and across the small yard to the waiting carriage. No one other than the usual allotment of royal guards stood in either the courtyard or on the walls, but tension nevertheless gathered within me. Just because the king wasn’t here didn’t mean he wouldn’t be in the m
ilitary zone. Didn’t mean he wasn’t playing some cruel joke, and that he wouldn’t, at the very last moment, renege on giving me to Donal.
We both climbed into the carriage and, once the guards were positioned front and back of the vehicle, we left the castle proper and were soon making our way through the streets, heading for the heavy metal gates that separated the royal district from the rest. The first tier—where the military was housed—was a natural C-shaped platform that completely surrounded the royal tier and overlooked the rest of the city. It was a place of gray stone buildings and even grayer metal rooftops, but in the summer, the veins of quartz that ran through the stone glimmered and sparkled, lifting the austerity of the place.
It was not summer, however; between the gray buildings and even grayer skies, it was a grim and forbidding place, and it very much matched my mood. Until Divona, the king, and my brother were left well in my wake, I couldn’t allow myself to believe that I might escape the city that had been both my hell and my prison.
The carriage came to a silent halt to one side of the gateway between the first and second tier. I looked out the window and my gut immediately twisted. The relief squadron was ready and waiting—two hundred and fifty men and women all staring directly at us.
I couldn’t immediately see the king, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here. Tension flowed through me, and I flexed my fingers. It didn’t help. Nothing would. Not until I was free of this city.
“Ready, Princess?” Donal said quietly.
My gaze shot to his. “No. But like many things in my life, it’s not like I have a choice.”
“And if you did?”
“I’d leave this goddamn city so fast you’d only see dust.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And what of your ambitions?”
“I have none beyond survival.”
“And what of the throne?”
“That isn’t an ambition. It’s an impossibility.”
The door opened, cutting off any reply he might have made, but the questions I could see in his eyes would undoubtedly appear thick and fast once we were free of this place.
“Lord O’Raen,” a brown-haired, brown-suited man said. “Commander Gallego awaits. Please come with me.”
He made no mention of me. He didn’t even look at me.
“From this moment on, Princess,” Donal murmured, “we present a united front and protect each other’s back.”
My gaze shot to his again, but I didn’t ask why. There was no need. This might technically be a military outfit, but it was filled with what was basically Divona’s unwanted—its murderers, cheats, thieves, and outcasts—and they would no doubt test us.
I climbed out of the carriage and stood to one side, surveying the gathered army with what I hoped was a mask of indifference.
Donal stepped down and, as one, we followed the soldier across the parade yard. There was absolutely no sound. A hush had fallen over the entire first tier and odd energy filled the air.
The only thing that wasn’t quiet was the earth. Her rage was building, a frustrated force I could feel through the thin soles of my boots.
She didn’t like what was happening, but she, like me, could do little to alter the situation. Since her abandonment of the king, she’d had no voice in this city.
Commander Gallego was a powerfully built man with bushy gray eyebrows, a thick shadow of gray around his chin, and a close-shaven head. His dark gaze briefly met mine and showed neither surprise nor annoyance. He’d obviously been expecting my presence here, but there was little indication as to what he thought about it.
“Lord O'Raen,” he said, as we came to a halt in front of him. “I've been ordered to hand control of the scouting division to you.”
“And the man who was previously in charge of this division?” Donal asked mildly. “What does he think of this development?”
“He will act as your second.”
“And is he a seasoned soldier such as yourself?”
“All divisional heads are—”
“Then with respect, we both know my taking his place will only lead to resentment. I’d prefer if we act as his seconds.”
Surprise and amusement briefly touched the commander’s weatherworn features before he shut it down. “We? I hardly think it appropriate the princess be given such a post. She has no experience beyond the walls of her castle, Lord Donal, and that presents a danger to us all.”
A statement that confirmed my belief that the whispers about me—and the utter contempt in which I was held—had indeed been contained within the castle walls. No one beyond them knew—or cared—about the true state of my life there. Not even those here in the military tier.
“And yet, given her rank, it’s hardly appropriate for her to be slated as a common soldier.” He raised an eyebrow, his expression challenging. “Or did you, perhaps, have some other position in mind?”
The commander’s smile held little in the way of amusement. “No, I did not.”
“And the king? Has he given any orders regarding my presence?” I asked.
His gaze came to mine again. Even though there was no emotion in either his eyes or his expression, nothing but contempt emanated from him.
“The king has given me no orders.”
Which all but suggested he had been given orders from someone other than the king.
“Then this matter is settled,” Donal said. “Is my brother here?”
“He awaits in the guardhouse.” The commander stepped to one side and motioned toward the small metal construct positioned to the left of the main gateway.
“Thank you.” Donal glanced at me, and though he didn’t say anything, it was obvious his “stick together” request didn’t apply when it came to his family.
I crossed my arms and watched him walk away. And instantly felt a whole lot less secure—which was ridiculous. No matter what these people might think of my presence here, they wouldn’t do anything within Divona’s walls.
Once we were beyond them, however, all bets would be off. But no matter what happened, I’d have to deal with it myself. It was the only way I was ever going to gain any respect from these men and women.
Unless, of course, me gaining respect wasn’t part of the highlander’s plans.
Once Donal was out of sight, the commander glanced at me and said, in a hard voice, “If you, in any way, do anything to endanger my people, I will kill you myself, princess or no.”
I met his gaze evenly. “Commander, I’m not sure what reasons you were given for my presence here, but I ask that you do not believe them. Nothing but lies comes from the glass court these days.”
He didn’t reply, but I nevertheless felt his scorn. But that was an emotion with which I was comfortably familiar. Even the waves of contempt flowing from those standing in silence behind us didn’t really bother me.
It was the off sense of anticipation and avarice coming from one very small section of the group that did. Its scent was so strong it stung my nostrils, and it was one that confused the hell out of me.
I resisted the urge to rub my arms and kept my gaze on the guardhouse. Why had Donal been so insistent on seeing his brother one last time? Granted, it would be another six months, at least, before they were in each other’s company again, but I rather suspected that wasn’t the reason. That it wasn’t so much a goodbye he was interested in, but rather the wind and her whisperings.
The two men came out five minutes later. Aside from the newly healed wound that ran from the corner of his left eye down to the edge of his mouth—a gift from the fight with Lord Brannon and his men, no doubt—Donal’s older brother was the spitting image of him.
They embraced briefly, then, without looking our way, the brother departed through the gates and Donal returned to us.
“Lord Donal, you and Princess Nyx are with Captain Marx at the front of hauler three.” His gaze went past us. “Company, let’s move.”
Two hundred and fifty soldiers turned in a somewhat less than precise w
ay and began a quick-time march up the main road. Donal and I fell in behind them and, in very little time, had reached the vehicle terminus. Hauler three was a five-pod vehicle and the smallest of the six gathered, but, like all of them, looked like a sleek metal caterpillar.
Donal walked up to the first pod behind the control unit, opened the door, and climbed inside. He didn’t offer me a hand up, and I would have refused it if he had. We were being watched, and I had no desire for anyone to think the only reason for my presence was as a body to keep him warm at night.
Though I had no doubt that’s exactly what they were thinking.
And what might yet happen.
The inside of the pod was sparse, holding little more than two long benches—one behind the other—and a small curtained-off area at the rear that I presumed was a privy. Donal had already claimed the back seat.
I swung off my pack, tucked it under the seat, and sat beside him. My stomach churned, and it took every ounce of control I had to maintain a calm front when all I could think about was whether or not the king was playing the ultimate game.
Because handing me the possibility of escape and then snatching it away at the last minute might well be the thing that finally broke me.
I licked my lips and then said, in an effort not to think about that possibility, “Is your brother heading straight home?”
He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “What makes you think he’d want to stay in this wretched place any longer than necessary?”
“Oh, I have no doubt he’s leaving Divona; I’m just questioning whether he’s returning directly home, or if your mistress has other plans for him.”
“The air guides his steps nowhere but home.” He glanced past me. “Captain Marx, I presume?”
A black-haired, green-eyed, middle-aged man stepped into the pod and dropped onto the seat in front of us. “Yes. And I appreciate your willingness to step aside, Lord Donal, but it’s unseemly—”
“That my station be put above your experience and familiarity with these men,” Donal said.
A smile touched the captain’s leathery features. “I seriously doubt my experience would be any greater than that of a Westal Wildman. Your people battle the Skaran full-time. Those of us assigned command of the relief squadron at the Karva Pass only do so on a six-monthly rotating basis.”
