by Jayla Jasso
He didn’t move, but instead stroked her hair gently away from her face with warm fingertips. “I will find a way to see you again, Jiandra.” He pressed tender kisses to her temple and then held her again, pressing her close to his body.
Jiandra clung to him and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened to overflow.
Eventually, he released her and took her hand. They joined Yavi by the horses. Yavi looked up at them as they approached, but didn’t speak.
Yajna took his leather armor from Yavi’s saddlebags and silently stripped off his peasant clothes while Jiandra watched somewhat guiltily, transfixed by the sight of his muscular body in the faint moonlight. He donned his leather breeches and jacket, pulled on his boots, and strapped on his weapons. When he was dressed, he came to stand in front of her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands and brush her tears away with his thumbs.
“Are you certain you can make it back to your farm safely? And are you certain you want to give me this good horse?”
“Yes. Please take him. Fly, Yajna. Live.”
Yavi came closer. “I wish to say goodbye to her as well, brother.”
Yajna reluctantly released her, and Yavi took both her hands in his. “Mahitha, I cannot take my leave without telling you again how much I regret my actions back in the cave. Please forgive me.”
“Yavi, there is no need. We didn’t even know each other when you…when you did that which I have now forgiven and forgotten.”
Yajna pushed Yavi aside and pulled her into his embrace. “Do not say farewell,” he whispered near her ear. “You will see me again. I will find a way.”
He pulled her cloak tighter over her shoulders, then mounted Otto. Yavi swung himself onto his horse, and the two of them turned to look down at her. A muscle twitched in Yajna’s jaw just before he nudged Otto and galloped away, Yavi close behind him.
Jiandra watched them disappear into the darkness, then turned to walk through the lonely trees toward home, sobbing softly. The long walk ahead in the cover of night would give her time to grieve alone.
#
Yavi and Yajna rode swiftly through the night, keeping their hoods low. They arrived at the campsite northwest of Caladia by dawn and stopped to rest. They fed and watered the exhausted horses, then slept on their bedrolls in their tents for a few hours.
Later in the day, Yajna awoke, grabbed his bow, and caught three trout in the stream. He took them to Yavi, who was busy building a fire, and then went back to bathe in the chilly water while his brother roasted the fish.
Yavi handed Yajna a bowl of roasted fish as he returned from the stream. “Brother, you are a lucky man. To have won the love of a woman like her.”
Yajna ate in silence for a moment, then took a sip of water. “I have been thinking, brother. From boyhood we worked hard with Father to till our farm, with nothing to show for it. For generation after generation all of Nandala continues in lack and misery, while our emperor indulges himself with every luxury and despises the Gods. It should not be so. We must depose Thakur, Yavi. For the good of our nation, for our people, for the refugees here in Villeleia, and for Father. So that we can offer a safe, comfortable home to our wives and children in our land.”
Yavi agreed. “We were sent here on a fool’s mission, by a fool. We will assassinate him or die trying, brother. I am with you. Tejeshwar guide us.”
#
At dawn, Jiandra rode her brother’s thoroughbread Tiber into Cobbleton Wood. Exhausted and emotionally drained, she dismounted, trudging toward the hidden waterfall. She fell to her knees in the soft, mossy earth and lifted the silver chain from around her neck. The Omaja slipped from her fingers into the basin of water, and the waterfall ceased to flow. Jiandra looked up at the rock wall to see Zehu’s shadow.
He was there. “Zehu.”
“Jiandra.”
She wept at the beautiful sound of his deep, comforting voice.
“You are exhausted. You have fought many battles with no rest.”
“I failed, Lord Zehu,” she cried sorrowfully.
“Why do you say you have failed, dear one?”
“The Nandals will not be released. There is nothing more I can do.”
“It is too soon to decide that, brave girl. You have done well so far, and I am proud of you.”
Jiandra bowed her head to the ground, sobbing into her hands. “Zehu, I am in love with Yajna. I admit it. But we can never be together, and my heart is breaking.”
His shadow shifted a bit. “Be strong, dear one. Villeleia’s troubles have just begun. But all is not lost. Have hope.”
TWENTY-TWO
As Jiandra rode the few miles back to her farm, the early morning sunlight was just beginning to filter through the trees, illuminating her path.
Yajna. Parting with him was so much harder than she’d expected. Despite his promises of finding a way for them to be together someday, Jiandra knew that unless the Old Gods intervened, it was impossible. Villeleians were no more welcome in Nandala than the Nandals were in Villeleia. It was hard to imagine either her or Yajna leaving home to live in the other’s land permanently. And that was assuming that Yajna would even reach Nandala safely in the next few days. Jiandra shuddered at the thought of him being recaptured, then shook herself; she had to stop worrying about that right now. She just needed to get home to her family and rest. She would resume worrying about Yajna, dreaming about Yajna, and longing for Yajna soon enough.
#
Solange donned a plain dress and cloak, pressed her thumb into the cavity of the runestone, and slipped past the castle guards by way of her father’s secret underground tunnel exit to Poyner Street. As requested, the stable boy had left a horse ready and waiting for her in the tunnel. Solange climbed into the saddle, lowered her hood, and rode through the cobblestone streets to the Poor District where the main Nandal stockade was situated. As she approached, she saw a squadron of Kingston guards corralling a large group of Nandal prisoners, marching them down the street toward the stockade to lock them up.
Solange surveyed the prisoners. They were mostly young men, and from the look of their ragged work clothes, probably farmhands from the outlying wheat and barley fields to the south and southeast of Kingston. Several refugees wore worn, scuffed, hand-me-down boots, but a few of the men were barefoot. Their heads hung low, their faces dirty and gaunt, and their postures defeated, shamed. There were some little boys in the group as well. For some reason it took her by surprise to see five- and six-year-olds in cuffs and chains, their faces filled with terror as they eyed the well-armed Villeleian soldiers who were jerking them roughly along the street. One little fellow who followed near the rear of the group was wailing at the top of his lungs.
“Shut up, you!” a guard thundered at the distraught boy, who only sobbed louder.
“Maya! Maya!” he cried. He was tiny, emaciated; he couldn’t have been more than four years old.
Solange dismounted. She made her way toward the sobbing youngster, pushing through the small crowd of Villeleians that had gathered to taunt and jeer at the Nandals.
“Filthy Nandals!”
“Go back to Nandala!”
“Treacherous thieves!”
Someone near Solange shoved past her, getting close enough to the prisoners to spit at one of the Nandal men. He shrank back, turning his face away. Solange looked at the face of the attacker; it was an old woman, her face twisted into a vicious snarl, her curled lips baring yellow teeth. Solange had the urge to command her to stop, but didn’t want to be recognized.
She reached the little boy’s side and knelt near him on the cobblestones, grasping his thin arm. His sobs died in his throat for a moment as he stared at her with silvery-gray eyes, red-rimmed with tears.
“Maya,” he said plaintively.
“You lost your mother?” she asked.
He nodded, and tears stung her eyes.
“Move along, woman!” a guard shouted at Solange, prodding her leg with his booted
foot.
She rose to her full height and glared at him, fighting the urge to throw her hood back and order his dismissal from the guard ranks on the spot.
“I said move along!” He forced her aside with a gloved hand, grabbed the little boy up by the sleeve of his tattered shirt, and tossed him toward one of the prisoners. “Carry this boy, Nandal!”
Solange watched as they swung open the gate of the already overfull stockade and marched the new group of prisoners inside. The little boy turned to look back over the prisoner’s shoulder at her. His eyes locked on hers, and she saw there a question, a question for which she didn’t have an answer.
What will become of me?
Solange stood there for a long moment while the crowd moved past her. Then she mounted her horse to go home.
#
Elio was rolling a broken plow around the side of the barn when he noticed a lone feminine figure on horseback trotting up the road toward Stovy Farm. He set the plow down and walked toward the front yard to see who it was.
The horse drew near, and the rider pushed back her hood. It was Solange, tears streaming down her cheeks. Elio strode toward her, dusting his hands on his breeches. He reached up to help her down from the horse. As soon as she was on her feet, she pushed herself into his embrace.
“What is it, Brigetta?” he asked, hugging her. “What happened?”
She didn’t speak, her eyes spilling over with more tears. Elio cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the cottage. No one was outside—all was quiet for the moment. He pulled her with him into the barn, shutting and barring the door behind them. He pulled her into his arms again, caressing her back and her hair.
“What has happened? We’re alone; you can speak freely.”
“I went to the Nandal stockade in Kingston today.” Her large, dark eyes peered up at him. She closed them and choked on a sob. He cradled her cheek against his chest and stroked her hair while she wept against his work shirt.
“There was a little boy crying for his mum.”
Elio cupped her cheek, gently rubbing tears away with his thumb.
“I thought I was protecting myself. I was trying to protect all of us, do what was best for Villeleia.”
“I know,” he whispered. “You didn’t mean for people to be hurt.”
“Where’s Jiandra? Is she all right?”
“She is upstairs asleep. Resting.”
“What about the Zulfikar brothers? Did they get away?”
Elio nodded, caressing her arms comfortingly. “They are headed back to Nandala now.”
“I fear Jiandra will never forgive me.”
“Jiandra cares for you deeply, Solange. As do I.”
Her expression softened a little. She pressed her face into his shirt again. “Elio, I don’t want to be queen. I just want to be Brigetta.”
Elio kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled of expensive soap, a fragrant blend of lavender and freesia. “But you are queen. And a fine one.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I shall have to confront Sir Barkley and the Royal Council over the Nandals. But I am afraid, Elio. They will discredit me, undermine my authority because I’m too young. Then I will be a puppet to them, just as Riselle was. I fear it will do more harm to the Nandals than good.”
Elio smoothed a hand over her silky black hair, brushing it from her face. “So many responsibilities on your young shoulders. I wish it were not so.”
“And what of the citizens of Villeleia? Many of them believe the Nandals are a pestilence. I am told that I am well-liked right now because of this detainment order. Supposedly Villeleians feel I have shown more courage in addressing the Nandal problem than even my father did. If that is the sentiment of the nation, how can I go against the will of my people?” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “Yet how can I leave that little boy in the stockade, crying for his mother?”
Elio wasn’t sure how to answer.
“You and Jiandra are my only true friends. Promise me, Elio, that you won’t give up on me.”
“Never. I would never give up on you.”
Solange hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek to his shirt. “I know I will lose you someday. You’ll find a sweet, lovely commoner to marry. I won’t be able to dream of you, see you like this.”
“No, Brigetta.” He tipped her chin up to look her in the eye. “If you ask me to, I will marry no one. I will keep my love for you only, even if it has to be in secret.”
She stared up at him, her beautiful dark eyes searching his face. She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. He brushed his lips over hers in the softest of kisses. Someone tried to open the barn door.
“Elio?” Rafe’s voice came from outside.
“Yes, Rafe.”
“Soldiers are here.”
Elio looked down at Solange. “Stay here,” he ordered, releasing her to stride to the door. He unbolted it and swung it open, emerging to see four soldiers on horseback riding up to the cottage.
He walked over to greet them. “Good day, sirs. How may I assist you?”
“We’ve had word there are some Nandals here. We’ve come to inspect.”
“You’ve been misinformed,” Elio returned calmly. “There are no Nandals here.” He turned to address Rafe. “Go call Santiago. Tell him to come here so these fellows can see that he’s no Nandal.”
Rafe took off running toward the vineyard.
Elio turned back to the guards. “We’re down to one farmhand. My other one, James, is in Wydefield caring for his sick mother. Santiago hails from a village on the western coast, near Rockrimmon.”
Seconds later, Rafe reappeared with Santiago following at his heels, an apprehensive look on the farmhand’s face.
The guard saw his brown eyes and hair. “You’ve got no other hired help here?”
“No, sir.”
Just then the cottage door swung open, and little Kunjana’s head poked out. The guards turned to look. Hair as silver as the moon hung braided down her back, and her piercing silver eyes blinked up at the guards. The guard captain dismounted. Kunjana disappeared, closing the door abruptly.
Elio moved to stand between the guard captain and the cottage. “That little girl is not a threat to Villeleian security, sir. I suggest you be on your way.”
He shoved Elio roughly aside and stalked toward the door. Rafe ran to lunge for the guard’s legs.
Elio shouted, “Rafe, no!”
The guard kicked Rafe aside, and continued toward the cottage door until a commanding female voice halted him.
“Stop right there!” Solange’s dark eyes flashed angrily.
“My…queen?” he faltered.
“Get back on your horse and leave. Now,” she warned tightly.
He blinked at her in confusion. “But…we’re under orders to—”
“The detainment order against the Nandals is in the process of reconsideration. I have decided to suspend all arrests for the time being. Get back on your horse and leave.”
He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at his companions.
“These people are my cousins, my only family left, and I order you to leave their property and stop harassing them. Leave, now!”
The guard bowed low in her direction, went back to his horse, and swung himself into the saddle. He and his companions galloped away from the farm.
Rafe got up, dusted off his pants, and ran to hug Solange’s skirts.
Elio’s eyes met Solange’s, and held. He gently pulled Rafe away from her. “Go back to work, little man.”
Rafe nodded and hurried off to the field.
Elio pulled her into his arms. “My brave queen,” he breathed near her ear as she clung to him. “You were amazing.”
Jiandra emerged from the cottage, smiling. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but…Your Highness, would you like to come in a moment for tea?”
#
Jiandra and Solange sat in the sitting room in front of the fireplace while Gracie served them. Jiandra cleared her throat.
“Solange, I wanted to thank you for allowing me to leave with Yajna last night. I realize my actions put you in a very awkward position, and I don’t blame you for questioning my motives.”
Solange looked down at her tea.
Jiandra continued. “Yajna says he changed his mind about the assassination and missed on purpose, and I believe him. I didn’t want to turn him in, but he insisted, in the hopes that the detainment order against all Nandal refugees would be lifted. I hope that you will forgive me for rescuing him from the dungeon.”
“Please don’t worry about that, Jiandra. I was surprised to see that the Zulfikar man has a twin.”
“Yes. The two of them were sent by the emperor of Nandala to take advantage of our confusion and grief at the loss of our king and his firstborn. They were to create even more turmoil by assassinating you and putting Villeleia in a weakened position so that Nandala could attack. In return for completing this assignment, the emperor promised to restore the succession of the Zulfikar line to the Nandalan throne. Yajna and Yavi believed their father would rule with compassion and justice, respecting the Gods, and that the curse on Nandala’s land would be lifted. They aren’t bloodthirsty murderers, Solange. They are desperate men who love their country and their people.”
Solange nodded. “I know. Last night when I found you, they could have easily overpowered me and escaped, but they didn’t. If you have come to trust these men, and even care for them, I will not stand in your way.”
“In any case, cousin, I would never have helped Yajna escape if I thought they were still a threat to you or to Villeleia.”
Solange cleared her throat. “Jiandra, I visited the Nandal stockade in Kingston today. You were right. I know that I have to do something to stop the suffering, but I am unsure of how to proceed.”
TWENTY-THREE
By nightfall Yajna and Yavi reached the crystalline caves at the northern border of Villeleia. There were still fifteen miles of rugged mountainous terrain to cross into Nandala, so they decided to stop at the caves to rest for the night before making the trek. They were eager for a hot bath in the spring, a meal, and some sleep. And deep inside, Yajna felt reluctant to leave Villeleia, not knowing when or how he would be able to return.
