by Erin Beaty
Lani ignored them and addressed the guard. “Where is the third man?”
“Haven’t seen him since yesterday,” said the prisoner before the guard could answer. “Heard him a few times, though.”
The guard coughed and rubbed his throat. “He needed extra restraint.”
“Have you seen enough of them?” Lani asked Sage, who nodded. Something about both men made her skin crawl. “Take us to the third man,” Lani told the guard.
Sage stepped aside so Lani could go first. The Kimisar called out to her. “Ay, Demoran girl.” Sage looked back over her shoulder without thinking. The man met her eyes and winked. “I hope you like it down here.”
She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
A few turns down the hall, the guard stopped before an iron door. “He’s in here, Palachessa.”
Lani stepped up and slid a narrow horizontal window open to look inside.
Sage stood on her toes next to her. The tiny room was completely dark except for the slash of light from the opening in the door. “I can’t see anything,” she said.
At her voice there was movement within the chamber. A shadow shifted and chains rattled. Though she knew she was safe, Sage jumped back. “He can barely move.”
“It is necessary,” said the guard, closing the window with a rusty screech.
The chains rattled again, weakly, and Sage took another step away from the cell. “Surely he can be restrained in another way.”
“That man nearly escaped again last night, after his first attempt with Minister Sinda in the afternoon. He injured two guards and almost killed a water boy.”
“He would be better treated if he behaved,” said Lani.
It was one thing to know such monstrous men existed, but it was quite another to see what had to be done to contain them. Did such conditions make them more vicious, like caged fighting animals? “Perhaps he was desperate,” said Sage.
The princess frowned. “Saizsch, this man was part of the attack that killed Ah’lecks, no?”
Sage twisted her hands as the image of Alex falling off his horse played in her mind. Lani was right, but the room was little bigger than a coffin. Just the thought of being shut inside made it difficult for Sage to breathe. “How much longer will he be kept in there?” she asked.
“That is not my decision, mistress,” the guard said nervously.
Lani pursed her lips. “I can order him moved.” She raised an eyebrow at Sage. “Is that what you wish?”
Sage thought of the bruises on Minister Sinda’s face and of a terrified little boy being held hostage. Even considering that, the man’s treatment made her queasy. Or perhaps it was guilt for having tried to kill him herself. “Yes?” she said, unsure.
The princess turned her gaze to the guard, who shifted his feet and hesitated before responding. “I want to obey My Princess, but I must also answer to my superiors.”
“I understand,” said Lani magnanimously. “You will relay my order, then, and if the head guard disagrees, he has until sunset to personally explain to me why.”
The man bowed, looking relieved. “Yes, Palachessa.”
Sage glanced at the iron door, feeling a strange pull. The man would be put in better conditions by nightfall. She wondered if he’d heard and understood their discussion. Probably not. Maybe she should say something to him. But what?
“Are you satisfied, Saizsch?” asked Lani. “Or is there more you would like to see?”
The underlying purpose of speaking to the man would only be to make him grateful to her and make herself feel better. Sage turned away. “I have seen enough.”
87
ONCE HE THOUGHT he heard her voice, as if through a thick fog. Then it was gone.
Alex’s escape attempt yesterday afternoon was unsuccessful, but when they’d caught him he didn’t go down without a fight. The Casmuni traitor had questioned him for hours, but he could barely focus on account of the pain—he’d fielded one too many punches to the gut in the confrontation.
Alex tried to resist the interrogation, acted like an ignorant foot soldier and gave inconsequential information, dragging his answers out as long as he could to put off the next blow. Admitting he was Demoran now would be a death sentence.
That night, when it was over, he’d almost escaped by grabbing the guard who came to feed him. The man had no keys, but the one who ran in to assist him did. Alex got them off his belt while both guards gasped and choked on the floor next to him—nothing permanent, just enough to incapacitate them while Alex unlocked his shackles. He got six turns in the corridors before running full-force into a boy carrying two buckets of water. By the time Alex scrambled to his feet, he was surrounded, and the boy cowered on the floor in front of him.
He didn’t resist, not wanting the boy to be hurt. This time they put him in a room so cramped he couldn’t have turned around even if all four limbs weren’t chained inches from the walls. Alex drifted in and out of consciousness, dreaming of Sage, until the ringed man returned, and suddenly the only thought that had sustained him was dangerous.
Because now the questions were about her.
Knowing Sage, she’d made herself valuable. She’d gotten close to the king and could therefore be used by this man. He wanted to blame her for the king’s murder, which, for all Alex knew, had already taken place.
“Who is she?”
Alex was blindfolded, hanging by his wrists from the ceiling, but he’d learned to sense the shift in the air just before he was struck, and he tensed. “I don’t know!” he cried out when the initial wave of pain subsided. “Captain Huzar never told me.” Alex still clung to his Kimisar identity, believing it was his only chance of getting out alive, his only chance of keeping her alive.
“What did your commander want with her?” The pain of the shackles faded under a fresh assault.
“He never said.” Alex’s ribs were so bruised he could barely breathe. “I was only following orders.”
“Liar.” The man forced Alex’s chin up. “You expect me to believe you crossed dremshadda and miles of desert on your own without knowing why?”
Harsh light leaked through the underside of the blindfold, making his eyes burn.
“She was incidental,” he gasped. It was hard to think of her as unimportant when she mattered more than anything to him. “I was only after the prince.”
Through the pounding in his head, he realized what he’d said, but it was too late.
For a moment there was silence in the room. No movement, no breathing.
Then, “What prince?”
88
THE COUNCIL HAD made no decision by the next morning. Sage was restless, studying maps of Casmun, trying to estimate how long it would take to get home by the long way. Lani dragged her out of her room for tashaivar in the afternoon, saying Sage needed to stop brooding. The exercise helped, but only for a few hours.
At dinner, Lani peppered her with questions about the marriages she’d helped arrange while apprenticing for Darnessa Rodelle, the high matchmaker of Crescera. The princess cast frequent looks at her brother, no doubt beginning the process of softening him to her desire to wed Minister Sinda. Sage tried to support her friend but stuck to political marriages. It was too painful to speak of love matches, which were more common in Demora than people thought. Her own parents had spurned the system and chosen each other, but so had Alex’s—though according to official records, they were matched and wed nine months before his birth.
Late that night she returned to her maps, unwilling to go to bed until she was too tired to dream.
“Mistress Saizsch?”
She stood from where she leaned over the table and dropped her distance-measuring tool. “Palandret?”
“May I enter?”
“Of course, My King.”
Banneth parted the gauzy curtains leading to the patio and stepped inside, nervously. “You are looking at maps?”
“Yes.” Sage pointed to her charcoal marks. “I was try
ing to determine how soon we could be home.”
“Are you so eager to leave?”
“No. Yes.” Sage sighed. “I feel welcome here, but it is not our home, and I want our family to know we are safe.”
Banneth nodded to the map. “They will know soon enough.”
Relief washed over her. “The council has agreed to send us home?”
“No, Saizsch.” Banneth shook his head. “The Demorans are here.”
“Here?”
“Well, actually, they are about here.” The king pointed to a spot in northeast Casmun, along the old trade route. “In four or five days, they will arrive in Osthiza.”
Merciful Spirit, that was swift. They must have realized where she and Nicholas had gone within days. “That’s good.” Sage tried to sound casual. “How many are coming?”
“Four hundred soldiers, plus an ambassador and his party.”
Oh, no.
“That’s quite a number.” Banneth tilted his head to the side and looked at her with piercing green eyes. “It makes me believe you and Nikkolaz are more important than you have told us.”
Sage felt cold all over despite the warm night. “Palandret—”
“I am not angry,” Banneth said. “I understand why you might not wish to say. And I owe you an apology. I have known about the Demorans for two days.”
“Does the council know?”
The king nodded. “I told them after you left with Lani. It was why I did not want her to stay. She would have told you, and I wanted time to think.”
“How did the council think on it?”
“The minister of war is not happy, as you can imagine,” Banneth said. “He is urging a military response. Others are fearful. They question your true purpose in coming here.”
“We were fleeing for our lives,” Sage insisted. “I never lied about what happened. The Demorans don’t want a fight, I promise.”
“And I believe you.” Banneth suddenly looked nervous. “Lani and I have been discussing ways to show our people they have nothing to fear, which brings me to my reason for visiting tonight.” He held up a finger, then stepped out to the patio briefly, and returned carrying a belt and harish—a curved Casmuni sword. “This is for you.”
Sage had wielded practice swords in tashaivar lessons, but the quality of this harish made them look like trash. Her eyes roved over the finely wrought scabbard and hilt. They were simple in decoration, and she wondered if that was in deference to her personal style. Her fingers itched to touch the weapon and test its balance, which no doubt matched its beauty.
The king offered it to her with a timid smile. “It is the finest steel in Casmun,” he said. “A weapon fit for royalty.”
Sage’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I am not royalty, Palandret.”
“This I know.” He paused. “I have one for Nikkolaz, too. These gifts will show my trust in you.”
He held it up for her to take, and Sage nearly snatched the sword from him, so eager was she to have it. She held her breath as she drew the blade out. The song of it sliding from the scabbard fell to a whisper once it was free. Banneth gently took the belt from her left hand and stepped back as she swung the harish experimentally. Its blade was so smooth and sharp that the air seemed to part in front of it visibly, like fabric. The balance was perfect.
“Oh,” she breathed.
The golden glow of the lamps reflecting off the blade made it look like it was crafted of light itself. She admired it from several angles, dimly aware of Banneth removing her belt and wrapping the new one around her waist. The difference in weight drew her attention back, and her left hand felt for where her daggers usually sat. Notches in the leather assured her there were places for them as well. She smiled shyly at Banneth. “Shall we try her out tomorrow in the arena?”
The expression he returned was serious. “There is something I would ask you, Mistress Saizsch.”
“Yes?” Sage said, distracted by the sword again.
“When the Demorans depart, will you consider staying?”
She lowered the sword, Banneth’s words striking a strange chord within her. “You wish me to stay as ambassador?”
“No, Saizsch,” he whispered. “I would have you stay as my queen.”
89
HE DID NOT pressure her to accept, merely stated his reasons for proposing marriage: it would protect her and make a statement to his people that the Demorans were to be welcomed, he felt she had the knowledge and wisdom to use the position wisely, and—most importantly—it would create a union between Demora and Casmun neither nation’s councils could ignore.
His last words, however, shook her most.
“I do not love you,” Banneth said softly. “And I know you do not love me.” He looked down. “I know, too, about Ah’lecks, and how your heart is broken. My heart was once broken the same way.”
He had loved Queen Tamosa, but she hadn’t loved him. Sage took a step backward, clutching the sword against her chest. “And yet My King asks.”
His gaze came up again to meet hers. “I dare to think you might not wish to return to Demora, as your Ah’lecks is not there, and you can see the goodness that can come from staying.”
Alex wasn’t the only person she cared about in Demora—there was Clare and the queen and the princesses, and even Darnessa and the extended family she’d left behind in Crescera. Yet in a way she’d lost them, too. King Raymond and Ambassador Gramwell would depend on her in future negotiations, not only in language, but in the friendships she’d built. By the time Sage returned to Demora, everyone else’s lives would’ve moved on, including Clare’s, and there would be no place for her. It would never feel like home again.
“And what of your feelings, Palandret?” she managed to say. “Can you enter a second marriage without love?”
Banneth smiled tentatively. “I admire and respect you, and I am easy in your company. I hope someday we might find affection. If nothing else, I believe we can be content with each other.”
Sage could almost hear the matchmaker’s voice in her ear, whispering the same. She would say this kind of match—one where many people had a vested interest in its success—often had better chances of happiness than ones made for love or passion.
“I—I will have to think,” she stammered.
He nodded. “It is not a decision to be made lightly, but if you accept, we should proceed at once.” He blushed a little. “I have two heirs, as well as Lani, so we need not have children unless you wish to. You may stay in these rooms.”
“After the first night,” she whispered hoarsely. “After it is permanent.”
It was only ever supposed to be Alex.
Banneth’s flush deepened. “Yes.”
Sage looked down at the weapon in her hands, suddenly afraid it bore a personal mark. The king stepped closer and pointed to a place on the hilt. It was blank, like the place on her dagger for the Q that would never be there.
“I will carve my name here, but not until you agree,” he said. “If you do not, it is still yours to keep.”
She trembled all over. “I will consider all you have said.”
Banneth reached up to her face, framing it with his warm hands. “As my queen, there is nothing I would not give you, should you ask for it,” he said.
Still no words would come, but the king seemed to understand.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Saizsch Fahler.”
Sage stood unmoving for several minutes after Banneth left.
He wanted her to be his queen.
He didn’t love her, which was a relief, but she couldn’t ignore what else he’d said.
By all standards, it was a good match with tremendous potential. They’d enter the marriage fully knowing it might never grow to love, but they were compatible as friends, and children were not necessary. Even Darnessa, who pulled the strings of power in marriages all across Demora, could not have plotted a better political match.
Sage shut her eyes an
d held the harish to her chest. Even having arranged several successful marriages during her time with the matchmaker, she’d never considered marrying a man she didn’t love, and she didn’t love Banneth.
Yet she was considering this.
Alex, forgive me.
And what kind of life would this be? Surely not terrible. Banneth would never misuse or mistreat her.
But Alex.
She would be Lani’s sister and Reza’s mother. She could have children of her own and raise them alongside Lani’s, but that would be her choice.
But Alex.
Soldiers sacrificed their comfort, their time with family, and sometimes their very lives for the good of many thousands of strangers. She might not have the skills to fight for peace on the battlefield, but this she could do.
Alex. Alex. Alex.
Alex was dead.
He had died for her. How could she even consider betraying him like this?
When I say over and over how I want you to be mine, it is only because I am already completely yours.
She could never love anyone like she loved him, but Alex wouldn’t have wanted her to waste away, mourning and missing him so much she might as well have died, too.
He had died so she could live.
Her hands tightened around the hilt of the sword.
Alex.
I’m yours.
I am.
I always will be.
The textured grip pressed painfully into her palms as she choked back a sob.
But you’re gone.
90
SAGE FORCED NICHOLAS to attend tashaivar lessons the next afternoon, not wanting to be alone with Lani, who apparently had been the brains behind Banneth’s proposal. She hadn’t decided what to do, but with perhaps only three days left before the Demorans arrived, there wasn’t much time left to give him an answer.
“Isn’t this a girl’s way of fighting?” Nicholas complained, looking at Sage, Lani, and Princess Reza standing with their instructor, a gray-haired woman Sage had learned to fear a little bit.
