by Keri Arthur
I almost choked on the coffee. “And modest beside.”
“Always.” His eyes sparkled in the rising light of day. “In all seriousness, neither of us will really know how good—or bad—our units are until we get to the border and start patrols.”
“A statement that also applies to me. It’s not like I’ve had much experience outside the palace walls.”
“No, but you can hear the voice of the earth. That gives you an advantage over any of the people here—other than me, of course.”
“Can all your people hear the whisper of the wind? Can your brother?”
“No. My father can, as can two of my younger sisters, but it’s not something that flows true through every generation.” He scooped up the last of his beans and then mopped up the juice with a thick chunk of bread. “Can your brother hear the earth? As heir, he should, shouldn’t he?”
“Yes, but I can’t say if he does or not.” I grimaced and took another sip of coffee. “He underwent the initiation ceremony the same time as me, but I’ve never witnessed him using it.”
“He wouldn’t have had reason to. Divona’s a long way from the borders and the Skaran.”
A humorless smile tugged my lips. “Yes, but my brother’s temper is somewhat infamous. Either he has absolute control, or it no longer answers his call.”
“What does the earth say to that?”
I blinked. “Aside from the fact I didn’t have access to her until yesterday, I never thought to ask.”
He raised an eyebrow. “She’s obviously a far quieter mistress then, because the air has never been backward in voicing an opinion or giving advice.”
“The earth speaks from a place of history, whereas the air is more about current and future possibilities. It’s natural that she would be the more vocal of the two.” I frowned. “If you hear the wind’s chatter all the time, how do you not go crazy?”
“Who says I’m not?”
“After your behavior in the eighth tower, certainly not me.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be referring to my decision to walk naked through the streets, would you?”
“Indeed. And the speed with which you ditched your kilt rather suggests you were quite excited by the prospect of doing so.”
“As you noted before, Princess, had I been excited, there would have been evidence of it.”
“So, it wasn’t extreme control, just a lack of lust.” I paused. “Of course, that same disinterest is part of the reason I trusted you.”
Though his amused expression didn’t alter, something very serious touched his gaze. Once again, it was apparent that this man saw too much, understood too much. About what I said, and what I didn’t.
He raised that eyebrow again. “Only part? What was the other?”
I shrugged. “That you could do nothing to me that would be worse than what the king or my brother had already done.”
“Ah. And here I was thinking it was my winning personality, when all along I was simply a less heinous option.”
“But prettier on the eye than either of them, I’ll give you that.” My smile finally escaped. “At least when you’re clean and smelling less like a latrine and more like a man.”
“That smell kept the bugs away, Princess.”
I snorted softly and finished the rest of my coffee. Once breakfast was over with, we rose and helped break camp. Within an hour, we were on our way again.
Over the course of the long day, Donal instructed me on using a blaster—the everyday weapon of a common soldier—showing me not only how to load it but strip it down and clean it, as well as telling me the basics on how to fire. One thing quickly became evident—handling such a weapon was never going to feel natural to me. Maybe that was nothing more than simply being too used to the weight of either a sword or knife in my hand. And maybe it was simply the fact that killing with a gun seemed all too easy—all too impersonal. With a sword or knife, you felt the impact of steel on armor or in flesh. You felt the heat of splattering blood and gore. You were witness to life leaching away from eyes and body. I might never have actually witnessed the latter, but I didn’t really need to—not when I’d come close to seeing exactly that when I’d severed my brother’s arm, and not when I bore the scars of such intimacy with steel all over my body.
Of course, given I had no experience in the real world beyond the practice yards, it was very likely I’d come to appreciate the value of a distant and impersonal death—especially if the Skaran attacked.
As darkness claimed the sky, we once again set up camp. Donal and I were assigned duty from nine to midnight, and there was little trouble from Dravan or the other three in my unit. Not that I really expected there to be—I had no doubt he was now biding his time, plotting his evil and sorting out the bugs in whatever plans he brewed until the perfect moment arrived.
And that would no doubt be when the five of us were well beyond the safety of the Karva Pass military base.
The following day was very much a repeat of the previous. Donal once again ran me through a series of drills with the blaster, until I could load, break, and clean the thing with my eyes closed. I wasn’t fast by any means, but at least I wasn’t totally useless.
Of course, I hadn’t yet fired at anyone. No matter how much he assured me that the lack of recoil meant the blasters were very easy to keep aimed, I wasn’t entirely convinced I wouldn’t end up shooting either one of my teammates or myself.
And it did occur to me that my lack of experience would be the perfect excuse if I ever decided to shoot Dravan
As dusk claimed the skies again, the convoy started to slow. I slid across the bench seat and peered out the window.
Huge, dark mountains now dominated the sky. The Karva Mountains, in all their brutal glory. From where I sat, I couldn’t see either the pass’s entrance or Rodestat, but as the skies darkened further, the warm glow of lights began to appear, all of them clustered to the very right edge of my viewing area.
“If you wind down the window, you can perch on the sill and watch our approach,” the captain said. “The Red City is quite something to see the first time.”
I immediately did so, gripping the inside sill with both hands as I leaned out. The hauler began a long, sweeping turn and, as the caterpillar in front of us disappeared into the curve, Rodestat came into view.
It was massive, and unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Not even the images in the few books I’d read about the place could have prepared me for its sheer size and splendor.
A massive wall that shone like dark glass stretched across the width of the Karva pass. It was at least seven stories high and, given there were vehicles atop of it, had to be at least fifty feet wide. Behind the massive wall, three- and four-story houses climbed up either side of the mountain, appearing—at least from this distance—to be made of red earth that gleamed like fresh blood in the day’s fading light. A silvery curtain wall skirted the edge of this tide of houses; it was a continuous ribbon made of thin lines of metal and protected the city from any attack that came from the direction of the barren peaks.
Some distance behind the massive front wall were two metal towers. They stood on either side of the mountain pass and dominated the skyline, almost appearing to challenge the peaks for dominance. The two were joined by a vast red archway that soared across the city and from which multihued flags streamed out in the stiffening breeze.
“I didn’t expect anything so permanent-looking,” I said. “Not given the nomadic nature of the Mauvaissians.”
“This is their winter home,” the captain said. “And winter can be very harsh here, let me tell you. You’ll have to requisition a full kit from the stores; otherwise, you’ll be suffering frostbite once the winter snows hit.”
I ducked down to meet his gaze. “We patrol on foot?”
A smile tugged his lips. “Yes. Scooters and carriages are both expensive to maintain and impractical to use in the rocky terrain of the Wild Lands beyond the pass.”
&nb
sp; “How deep does the snow get? I can’t imagine it would be easy to traverse on foot.”
“We use snow skids—they’ll be part of your pack once winter starts.”
I had no idea what skids were but didn’t bother admitting it. I leaned out again and saw the huge metal portcullis that dominated the mouth of the forbidding front wall was opening. People were also lining the top of the red arch, though whether they were soldiers or citizens I couldn’t really say.
I slipped back inside the pod and glanced at Donal. “You want to have a look?”
“Indeed.”
As he moved past and peered out, I asked, “Does the garrison look anything like the city?”
“No.” The captain grimaced. “It’s not called the black heart of Rodestat for no reason.”
“I take it you don’t like the place?”
He shrugged. “It’s a fortress built to withstand almost anything the Skaran can throw at it. The comfort of those who must man the place was a secondary consideration.”
“As it should be.” Donal came away from the window and sat down next to me. “It’s only a six-month detail, and there’s a major city on its doorstep.”
“A city we can only access at set times, especially during winter,” the captain said. “We’re also restricted to certain areas—go elsewhere uninvited or unescorted, and you court death.”
“Given the caliber of soldier that is currently being sent here,” I said, “that’s not entirely surprising.”
Again a smile tugged his lips. “No.”
It was another twenty minutes before we reached the city. The impeller activated once we went under the portcullis and into a long tunnel that led into the city. The Mauvaissians who were on the streets paid us no heed—in fact, most of them turned their backs on us as we passed.
The deeper we got into the city, the narrower the street became. Eventually, we went through another tunnel and the blood-colored houses gave way to sheer mountain walls.
I scooted across the seat and peered out. We were in a deep, sheer-sided canyon. Rodestat lay behind us and only darkness lay ahead. The canyon was a sterile place—there were no trees, grass, or even moss, and while a constant flow of water ran down the canyon’s vertical sides, it disappeared quickly into the crevices that zigzagged across the canyon’s floor.
I pulled back from the window and glanced at the captain as he pressed his halo.
After a moment, he said, “Understood. Scout leader out.”
“Problem?” Donal said, before I could.
“I’m not entirely sure.” His expression gave little away. “But it would appear rumors of your presence has reached Mauvaissian ears. The Red Queen has requested a private audience with you both on our arrival.”
That was a meeting I certainly wasn’t ready for. I might have enjoyed her presence in my bed more than some, but that didn’t alter the fact that the choice had not been mine.
And she’d been well aware of it.
I flexed my fingers, once again trying to ease the rising tide of tension. I had no desire to die—not before I’d at least enacted revenge on both the king and my brother—but if I didn’t watch my words or my actions, death would very likely take my hand this evening.
And yet I wasn’t entirely sure I was capable of such restraint. Not now that I was no longer leashed.
I looked out the window again and saw we were in a V-shaped courtyard. Multilevel buildings pressed up against the sheer mountain walls; the ground level areas were obviously dedicated to everyday requirements—mess halls, kitchens, armories, and the like—while the six upper levels on either side of the V appeared to be barracks. The widest point was a massive curtain wall that was topped by a walkway. Underneath this was a series of windows—communications and command centers, more than likely.
The red-and gold-clad garrison was lined up in the courtyard, and there were certainly far fewer of them than us. The haulers came to a halt and the doors opened. We followed the captain out and lined up with the other unit leaders in front of the scout division. The garrison soldiers formed several lines behind us.
The garrison commander greeted Gallego; the two spoke quietly for a few minutes, then our group was formally welcomed. In very little time—and with very little ceremony—the old squadron was escorting the new to the various stations and bunkhouses.
Two men in loose red tunics with guns belted at their waists approached Donal and me, requested we follow them, and led us away from the group.
“I gather from your reaction in the hauler,” Donal said quietly, “that the Red Queen was one of the people sent to your bed.”
“Yes.” There was little inflection in my voice. I hoped I could keep in that way.
“Then I’m sorry.”
My gaze shot to his. “Why?”
“Because I asked my father to request this meeting. Had I known your connection with her, I wouldn’t have done so. Not until you were ready.”
“I’m not a paper flower in need of protection, Donal.” The tension I was trying to control was very evident in those few words. I took a deep breath and then added, “But why would you ask to meet with her?”
“Because she is queen of this land and needs to know what the wind whispers.” He glanced at me. “And I’m well aware you’re steel rather than paper, but even steel has a breaking point.”
“The Red Queen isn’t mine.” Though there was no doubt that both anger and hostility would be an undercurrent in my dealings with her. I guess we’d soon find out just how visible those undercurrents would be.
“So you’ll not kill her, then?”
“No.”
“Good, because I suspect we’ll actually need her help in the future.”
“Suspect?” I glanced up at him. “Is that intuition speaking or uncertainty on the part of your mistress air?”
“The air advises against killing unnecessarily. She doesn’t mention the Mauvaissian queen specifically.”
“Not killing her does leave me with plenty of other options.”
“Nyx—”
“I’m joking.” My grin flashed, though it felt tight. False. “There are plenty of others I’d rather kill first—and we both know that is hardly practical if I ever wish to sit on the glass throne.”
We were led through a guarded doorway into a tunnel that was lit only in the area immediately in front of us, which gave the impression that we were chasing the light. The tunnel walls appeared to be made of the same glass-like material as the walls that guarded Rodestat, which suggested this tunnel played a vital part in the overall security of the garrison—an impression backed by the door and weapon slots regularly spaced along it. If invaders ever got this far, they could be locked into individual “cells” and slaughtered at will.
We eventually came out into what was basically a small, metal-lined antechamber. There was one door directly opposite the tunnel we’d just left, but little else. There certainly didn’t appear to be any sort of security measures, although I’d bet my life that was a false impression.
Our two escorts told us to wait and then walked across to the door. They keyed open a panel to its right and pressed several buttons. Lights flashed and, a heartbeat later, there came a distant sound of rushing water and the grinding of metal upon metal. An odd vibration began to run through the steel under our feet.
“I’d heard whispers of places like this,” Donal said. “But I didn’t believe them to be true.”
I frowned at him. “Meaning what?”
He met my gaze. “This entire room is a turntable.”
My confusion increased. “Why would anyone put a turntable under a mountain? The tunnel into this place is foot traffic only—there’s no way they could get a vehicle in here, so why would they need to turn it around?”
“It’s not designed for vehicles, but rather as a life and death lottery. If what I’ve read is true, there are a number of tunnels leading off this room, but only one safe tunnel in and out. The rest are death
traps. Key in the wrong coordinates and you die.”
“Which is an impressive piece of engineering—one I’m surprised isn’t being used in Divona and the other cities.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The treaty may have given us a thousand years of peace, but that doesn’t mean all secrets have been—or ever will be—shared.”
“True.”
The vibrations stopped. The guards punched a few more buttons, then the door opened to reveal yet another tunnel—one made of stone rather than the strange glass material or even metal. As we entered, the pulse of the earth came to life and her voice stirred, whispering of what lay ahead.
We were no longer in the garrison but in Rodestat itself. This tunnel had been built eons ago, when the Mauvaissians alone had manned the black heart of Rodestat. But it had not only been designed as a trap but also a means of escape for any royalty caught in the garrison compound during an attack.
We were soon approaching another door; in the room beyond, the earth whispered, was one person.
I had no doubt that person was the Red Queen. She’d never been one to need either a large entourage or protection detail. In Divona, only three had shadowed her movements. Here, in the heart of her kingdom, there was little need for it, if only because it was very unlikely an opponent’s blade would find its way into her heart. That was not the way in which Mauvaissian society worked.
I flexed my fingers again, but it did little to ease the knot of tension growing in my gut. Power stirred through the ground under my feet, seeming to echo the turbulence within me. The earth might whisper for calm, might urge that I didn’t react out of anger or hate, but she was nevertheless ready to unleash hell should I urge it.
Part of me really did want to unleash—and not just on the Red Queen.
As the guards keyed open the door, I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.
I could do this. I had to do this. The air might whisper of a future where I claimed the King’s Sword and ruled from the glass throne, but for that to actually happen, I had to face every single person who’d ever taken their pleasure from me.
Face them and not kill them.
The door opened. She was not immediately visible.
