Conquering Fate

by Jennifer Anne Davis

  I found myself in the middle of Morlet’s bedchamber.

  “Are you in the capital yet?” he asked, standing beside the hearth with his black cape cascading over his shoulders and to the floor. “I’m having difficulty sensing you even though Norill has your medallion.”

  If I had the medallion, Morlet wouldn’t have been able to communicate with me this way since it protected the bearer from all forms of magic being used on them. “I am.” I had so many questions for him that I didn’t know where to begin.

  He removed his cape, tossing it on a side table.

  “You look well,” I commented. I wasn’t sure how the dream with the vine creature would have affected him, but his coloring seemed normal.

  He smiled and sat on a chair, motioning for me to do the same. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. Have you experienced any strange dreams like that before?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. The odd dreams began the moment magic had been unearthed in the mines. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have dug it up.” Humans had no business toying with something beyond our understanding and control.

  His eyes bored into mine. I blinked and looked away, fearful he would use his magic on me.

  “Perhaps,” he mused, leaning back in the chair, crossing his legs. “I want you here at my castle before the executions tomorrow,” he said, changing the subject.

  “If I come, will you stop the executions and release the prisoners?”

  “Not if you’re alone.”

  “What do you plan to do with Vidar and Anders?” They weren’t Krigers which meant Morlet could kill them without altering anything.

  “You want to know what I plan to do with my brother who’s been plotting against me and the assassin who killed my parents?”

  I couldn’t watch either of them suffer. Images of Anders burning still haunted me. “I don’t understand what you hope to accomplish.” Hurt them to hurt me? Sleep with me to hurt them? Kill them out of spite?

  The corners of his lips rose, fighting a smile. “I hope to accomplish something wonderful with you.”

  I stood and went to the hearth, pretending to warm my hands even though they weren’t cold. I needed something to do during this awkward conversation. “Why do they have to be here at all? Isn’t this between the two of us?” It was hard enough making the choice to give myself to someone. There was no need to involve anyone else. Especially since my relationships with Vidar and Anders were so complicated.

  Morlet stood and joined me by the fire, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Love is fickle,” he whispered. “It makes people do crazy things.” He gently turned me so we faced one another. I looked into his eyes and a thick warmth spread through my body. It felt as if I were swimming in water. I floated to the surface, arms outstretched, peaceful. Hands slid around my stomach, pulling me onto solid ground. Morlet stood before me under the weeping willow tree where my father had been buried. He leaned down and the desire to kiss him flooded me. I tilted my head toward him.

  5

  “Kaia,” Damaris said, shaking me. “Get up.”

  “Is it morning?” I groaned, rolling over. Shouting followed by a loud bang came from the level below us. I flew upright. “What’s going on?”

  “Soldats are searching the building looking for you.” She went to the door and listened. I shoved my feet in my boots and joined her. “It’s clear,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

  “Why would Morlet bother sending soldats after me when the executions are in a few hours and I promised to turn myself in?” Unless Vidar and Anders had managed to rescue the rebels and Morlet was furious. Maybe he planned to use me as bait.

  “Norill could have sent them,” Damaris whispered.

  We ran down the empty hallway to a stairwell. I didn’t know Norill could command the soldats. We ran up a flight of stairs. She pushed open the door and we burst onto the rooftop. The sun had not yet risen and cold air whipped around my body.

  “Maybe I should just turn myself in,” I suggested.

  Damaris ran to the edge of the roof, peering over the side. “Not until we know where Vidar and Anders are.”

  I didn’t want them anywhere near Morlet, but this wasn’t about what I wanted—this was about ending the curse. And Morlet had made his demands. Either I showed up with Vidar and Anders so Morlet would cooperate and conceive a child with me. Or I didn’t, and he wouldn’t.

  “The executions aren’t until noon,” Damaris said. “If Anders and Vidar failed to rescue the rebels, we have time to try to rescue them ourselves. You will not hand yourself over to the king until after we save those men.” She waved me over to the edge of the building. “Grab onto the laundry line and climb across.”

  “What?” My hands were raw, and there was no way I was hanging four stories in the air by a flimsy line.

  “It’s our only option.” She took hold of the line and tugged. “It seems secure. I’ll go first to make sure.” She lowered herself, hanging onto the thin line by her hands. She shimmied her way across the fifteen-foot gap to the adjacent building.

  “They’re on the roof!” a soldat shouted from below. At least two dozen soldats stormed into the alleyway between the buildings. One man ordered half the soldats to enter one building, and the rest of the soldats to enter the other.

  As Damaris made her way across, she pushed the clean clothes forward on the line. About a third of the way across, she yanked a mining jacket off the line, tossing it to me. I caught the sleeve and watched her make her way to the other building. She shoved the clothes onto the roof and then threw her leg up, climbing onto the rooftop.

  “Use the jacket!” she whispered loudly. “Hurry up!”

  Voices drifted out of the stairwell. Soldats were almost here. I placed the jacket on the laundry line. Grabbing ahold of the sleeves, I used my body’s weight to shimmy the jacket across the line. It was slow going, but holding onto the fabric was much easier than the thin line. My hands flared with pain indicating danger lurked nearby. I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it.

  Damaris urged me on as shouts came from the rooftop I’d just vacated. My arms shook—I couldn’t hold on much longer. I still had three feet to go.

  “Stop!” a soldat yelled from behind me. The laundry line vibrated as he clutched onto it. There was no way it could hold both of us. I moved faster. Damaris reached precariously forward, grabbing my shoulders and hauling me onto the rooftop.

  Scrambling to our feet, we ran to the stairwell. Inside, Damaris shoved some clothes at me. “Put these on.”

  I slid my arms into a mining uniform, Damaris doing the same. We burst out of the stairwell. In this apartment building, people were starting to leave for work. Instead of descending any farther, we went down the hallway, pretending we’d just left an apartment. I put my hand on the knob as if I’d closed the door. Soldats ran right past me, not paying any attention to us in their haste to make it to the rooftop.

  Damaris and I waited until a group of three people dressed in mining uniforms left their apartment. Then we walked behind the three men pretending we were also heading to work. Another group of soldats ran by.

  “Wonder what all the fuss is for,” one of the men muttered.

  “Don’t know. Let’s use the back exit. I don’t want to be around the soldats.”

  The others agreed. Damaris and I quietly followed the men. We made our way out of the building and to an alley. It sounded like a lot of activity was coming from the right, so we went left. Thankfully, vendors, miners, and other people were heading to work for the day and we blended in among them.

  “Now what?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was following us.

  “Let’s go to the Town Square. Hopefully there will be notices stating that the executions have been cancelled.”

  We huddled in a doorway, removing our mining uniforms so we wouldn’t attract attention since we needed to head in the opposite direction from the mines. After tossing the clothing in the corn
er, we stepped out of the doorway and walked along the street.

  A chill slid down my spine as we made our way toward the Town Square. This was where I’d first seen Morlet, discovered I was a Kriger, and met Anders. This was where it all started.

  Soldats stood on every street corner monitoring citizens. I kept my head down, hoping no one recognized me. I hated it here. The tall, gray buildings that lined the street were jam-packed with apartments housing multiple families. The sounds of people speaking, children crying, and soldats yelling were constant. The king’s castle stood in the distance, its imposing black stone walls and bleak towers reflecting the mood of the people.

  The packed streets made me long for the forest. Damaris linked arms with me so we wouldn’t get separated. Women rushed by carrying baskets, desperately trying to sell knitted scarves, socks, and gloves. Men headed to the mines to work in the underground tunnels. A layer of dirt clung to the entire capital, weighing it down.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” I mumbled as the entrance to the Town Square came into view. There were too many people moving toward the entrance. The executions must not have been called off.

  “If Anders and Vidar fail, a dozen lives are at stake,” Damaris said. “I need you sharp and focused.”

  I scanned the faces around me, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Damaris as we made our way through the entrance and into the Town Square. The platform stood in the middle, just as I remembered it. Instead of a single wood block, there were now a dozen—one for each man scheduled for execution.

  “Over here.” Damaris pulled me to the edge of the gathered crowd where a couple of wooden crates had been thrown against the blacksmith’s storefront. She climbed on top of one.

  “Be careful,” I hissed. Soldats stood guard on the nearby rooftops and along the perimeter of the Town Square which was approximately one hundred feet by one hundred feet wide, surrounded by shops. My heartbeat sped up—we were going to have to stop these executions. But how?

  “I don’t see Vidar, Anders, or any of the rebels,” Damaris said, jumping off the crate and standing at my side. “It’s up to us, then.”

  More people entered, and I could no longer see the exit. Trepidation filled me. We shouldn’t have been able to leave the treehouse so easily, we shouldn’t have been able to get into the capital so easily, and we shouldn’t have been able to avoid the soldats so easily. And there was my dream communication with Morlet last night—all he really wanted to know was whether I was in the capital.

  “Let’s go,” I said, suddenly feeling like we’d stepped into a trap.

  “I’m not going anywhere until we’ve freed the rebels.”

  Ignoring her, I jostled my way between the people, trying to reach the exit. I had to get out of here. Something was wrong—I was sure of it.

  Soldats dressed in solid black—the king’s personal guards—stormed into the Town Square clearing space for Morlet’s carriage.

  “Out of my way,” I insisted, trying to get around the people. There were too many, too close together. I hoped Morlet wouldn’t be able to sense my presence since I didn’t have the medallion on.

  Morlet sauntered out of the carriage and climbed the stairs to the platform. Wearing his traditional black cape, he turned and faced the silent crowd. “Bring out the prisoners,” he commanded, his deep voice resonating through the Town Square like a chilly wind.

  I continued to squeeze my way around the people, heading toward the exit. I moved slowly, facing the platform so I wouldn’t garner unwanted attention.

  A dozen men in torn clothing, their skin covered with bruises, were dragged out of a cart and shoved onto the platform. Soldats ordered them to kneel and place their heads on the wooden blocks. Twelve executioners—all dressed head to toe in black—came onto the platform, each one standing behind a kneeling prisoner.

  The wind blew Morlet’s cape, making it flap against his body, the sound loud in the Town Square.

  A sense of dread that had nothing to do with the pending executions overcame me. I couldn’t just leave these twelve innocent men here. I glanced around, trying to find Damaris in the crowd. I didn’t see her anywhere. What was I going to do? Expose myself? And where were Vidar and Anders? What happened to them?

  “People of Nelebek,” Morlet bellowed. “I know you have come here today to witness the executions of these men.” He pointed at the kneeling prisoners. “However, I am willing to pardon them on one condition.”

  A low murmur rippled through the crowd as people looked at one another, stunned. The king had never pardoned anyone before. He was known for being ruthless.

  “Bring me the young woman who falls to her knees,” Morlet said. His face was still hidden in the shadow of his hood as he held up his hand and made a fist.

  A wave of magic collided with me, and my legs gave out. I fell to the ground, landing on my knees, unable to move, the exit only fifteen feet away. Those standing near me backed up.

  “What do we do?” someone asked.

  “Take her to the king.”

  “It’s her or the twelve men,” another said.

  “But she’s just a young woman!”

  “It’s okay,” I said. Somehow, I’d known this was a trap. Besides, if I could save the twelve rebels, I would. “You can take me to the platform.” I’d play Morlet’s game if it got me closer to ending the curse.

  One man approached. He hesitated and then picked me up, carrying me in his arms. The crowd cleared a path for him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to me.

  I didn’t answer; there was nothing to say. My fate had been sealed before I was even born.

  When we neared the platform, a soldat came over and took me from the man. He carried me up the stairs, stopping before Morlet. The king opened his hand, and feeling returned to my body. The soldat set me on my feet. In front of me, the twelve prisoners were still kneeling on the ground, their heads on the execution blocks.

  “I’m here,” I whispered to Morlet. “Now let these men go.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not done yet.” He grabbed my arm, dragging me around the prisoners and to the front of the platform. “People of Nelebek,” he bellowed, “I’d like for you to meet Kaia.”

  Glancing at the sea of faces before me, I caught a glimpse of Vidar and Anders standing in front of the crowd before the platform, surrounded by soldats. Neither seemed surprised to see me. Anders closed his eyes, and I knew something horrible was coming.

  “I will pardon these prisoners right now,” the king said, “if Kaia agrees to marry me.”

  My legs gave out from shock, and I stumbled. Morlet caught my arm, steadying me. I must have heard him wrong. “What?” I asked.

  To me, he said, “Marry me and free these men, or free yourself and doom them. The choice is yours.”

  That horrible, cursed word: choice. I had a choice; however, neither was a choice I wanted to make. How could life be so cruel? “Why are you doing this?” I asked him. It didn’t make any sense; there was no point to us marrying.

  Addressing the gathered crowd, Morlet said, “If Kaia agrees to marry me, I will free these men. Kaia, what do you choose?”

  People in the crowd started chanting, “Marry him! Save the men!”

  I looked at the prisoners behind me.

  “Please,” one of the men begged, sweat dripping down his dirty face, tears in his eyes. “I have a family to take care of.”

  Morlet purred softly, “Yes or no? Life or death?” Then louder so everyone could hear, “What is your answer?”

  I couldn’t even look at Vidar or Anders. Closing my eyes, I thought about my choices. If I wanted to save these men, I had to marry Morlet. There really was no choice. I couldn’t allow these men to die. “My answer is yes,” I whispered. It felt like I’d swallowed rocks.

  “Louder, so everyone can hear you.”

  “Yes.” The word rang out in the courtyard and I could hear dozens of yeses mocking me.

  “Release them,” Morlet orde
red.

  The Town Square erupted with cheering. The executioners cut the prisoners free. The men staggered to their feet, many thanking me before clambering off the platform and melting into the crowd. Relief and dread warred inside of me. When I turned to leave, Morlet grabbed my arm.

  “We’re not done yet,” he snapped.

  What more could he possibly want? Horror filled me. I should have bargained for Vidar and Anders’s release as well. I glanced down at them, still surrounded by soldats.

  “People of Nelebek,” the king bellowed. Everyone quieted down. “You came here to witness an event, and you won’t leave until you’ve seen one.”

  Terror took root. I couldn’t let Vidar and Anders die. I had to save them. But how?

  “Kaia and I will marry now.”

  My eyes locked with Anders as the reality of Morlet’s words sunk in. Morlet wanted to marry me right now. It felt as if I’d been hung upside down. Anders’s face gave nothing away—no hint what he was thinking or feeling.

  Soldats came onto the platform, removing the wooden blocks that had been intended for the executions.

  “Don’t you want me to wear a pretty dress?” I asked, trying to stall. Why did Morlet want to marry me this very minute?

  He kept looking at the entrances to the Town Square, as if expecting something to happen or someone to show up. “I don’t care what you wear, so long as you are my wife,” he sneered. “You can walk about the castle naked if you want.”

  A man exited the king’s carriage dressed in a white robe with black swirls on the sleeves—the uniform of a marriage binder. His hair and beard matched his robe and his skin was covered with wrinkles. A soldat helped him up the steps to the platform.

  I gasped. “You can’t be serious.” This had been Morlet’s plan all along. “We’re going to get married right this second? On an executioner’s platform? Why are you doing this?”

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asked. “I don’t care if you have, but if you’ve decided not to marry me, I will have the rebels rounded up and killed.”