Moving fast, we ran down the hall, crouching low as we passed each open doorway. I took the apartment on my left, coming in and under the startled swing of the Seascrill that was exiting. He turned on me, swinging his knife in a wide arc. I took a knee, gasping as I felt the breeze of the sharp blade whir inches above me. I’d come close to losing my head. In a smooth movement, my staff extended, and I hit him with a blast of blue fire and he was down and still. Jumping over his prone figure, I raced for the open doorway to the bedroom as someone screamed. The sound cut abruptly short. I raced past the threshold as a large body exited and slammed into mine, sending me sprawling backwards and skidding several feet over the floor. I kept hold of my staff, bringing it around and letting loose with a wild shot. It created a dinner plate sized hole just above the head of the masked Seascrill who loomed over me from the open doorway, his lavender skin and dark features giving his heritage away. I drew more energy for another blast, my fingers burning and my breath coming in short gasps. His silvery gaze pinned me with anger for just a second, and then he was moving through the door before I could hit him with another shot.
I scrambled to my feet, my breath heaving. Using my magic as an extension of my staff took a lot out of me. I staggered into the bedroom. In the center of the bed lay a crumpled, dark form. Old Min, I remembered. This was her apartment, and she lived in it alone. She wasn’t moving. I fumbled over her person, unable to see well in the shadowed room. But I couldn’t mistake the wet stickiness my fingers slid through, or the lack of a pulse beneath her chin.
Min was dead.
With a growl, I whirled, forcing myself to move back through the apartment, stepping over the still prone form of the first rebel I’d hit. I ran into the hall just in time to see the fleeing backs of several more rebels as they retreated down the stairs. Mirra watched them go, the rest of the members of Tarus Council and the Royal Family behind her, milling in confusion and shouting for their missing guards.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The funeral procession for old Min was a solemn march. It was attended by nearly every inhabitant of Tarus. Members of the Guard carried her on a small dais between them as we walked along the cobbled streets of Tarus. Most were Sylvan, but a few Seascrill who had known and been fond of the old Councilwoman had joined as well. Through the doors, down the steps, and into the pool leading out of Tarus, we walked and then swam. We were headed to Altare Abyss, an endless hole in the bottom of Deep Lake, where Sylvans and Seascrill alike “buried” their dead. No one knew how deep the abyss went. I knew it went deep enough.
I walked alongside Mirra, with Pinna behind me and Dael in front of us all. Shade was absent, but as the Captain of the Guard, we assumed he was towards the front, directing. The troops themselves flanked the deceased in a tribute of respect to protect their remains on the final journey. I knew it was more than that today. It was also to protect those attending from the possibility of attack.
In a single line, unarmed and unprepared, we were vulnerable. But apparently, the sanctity of death and Min’s burial was enough to keep them at bay because we reached the Altare Abyss without issue, clustering around the edge as Min was carefully lowered onto the stone dais that was a permanent structure to hold the departed at its edge. The only part of Min visible was her wrinkled face, the skin pale and her eyes thankfully closed as if in sleep. She was encased head to toe in a white shroud of waterwort weed, the light, shimmery material wrapping her tightly. Sewn into the entire surface of the cloth were hundreds of small pockets. My mind shied away from what they were for. I’d been an Onlander for too long.
I looked down into that abyss and shivered, though I wasn’t cold. It was more than dark down there. The inky blackness was complete, as if there was an utter absence of any light.
Surrounding the slab, the Council gathered and held her body still so she didn’t become a victim of the current. Sans’ grief, even from a distance, was easy to read. Someone had mentioned they were childhood friends, though I couldn’t remember who. I thought of what it would be like to lose Sadie, or Thomas, and suddenly my gills struggled to manufacture enough oxygen for me to breathe. Leta, Head Councilwoman, spoke. She talked of Min’s life and accomplishments, and I thought that that part, at least, wasn’t so dissimilar to what Onlander funerals were like. But it wouldn’t end the same. As she murmured the last words, she stepped forward, removing a smallish red stone from her robes. She placed it carefully in one pocket and stepped back. One by one, the rest of the council members stepped up and did the same. Though I couldn’t hear the words, I knew each member spoke of a favorite memory or something they admired about the deceased, and then left their token, the stretchy material holding them fast. After the Council finished paying tribute, the rest of those gathered took a turn until every pocket held a personal tribute. When it came to me, I removed the small sliver of rose quartz I’d found in one of the rock beds from a small pouch at my waist. It was a lovely pink color, and I clutched its sharp edges in my fist as I made my way to where Min lay. I hadn’t known her well, and what I added wasn’t nearly as personal as the rest. Still, I remembered a tiny woman, shriveled and bent, who had offered a kind smile to me when I first arrived. I could speak to that.
Afterwards, Tarus Council moved forward and surrounded her once more. Leta offered the last words. A lump formed in my throat as I watched them lift the back end of the dais together. In slow motion, Min slid off the end. She hovered over the dark space for just a second before the weight of her rocky shroud pulled her down. She disappeared from sight, but far below I saw the tiny flickering of lights flashing on and off. Diatoms I knew, lighting up as Min passed by them, a fitting tribute to her sacrifice.
As the fireworks sparked below, above, we mingled and spoke of Min and her long life.
I gathered with Pinna, Mirra, and Dael. Part of me wanted to talk about the reason we were at a funeral. It was impossible not to remember that her death had been no accident. Min had been an old woman, but she hadn’t died of natural causes. She’d been murdered by a band of Seascrill. I knew they were merely the body of the serpent, directed by the head. I suspected we hadn’t seen the last of our attackers. But this wasn’t the place for such talk. “I had little to say. I met her exactly once,” I admitted to Mirra.
“Nobody expected you to. She was an old woman, there was plenty for others to say in celebration of her life,” she told me.
“She was an important member on the Council board,” Dael said.
Mirra nodded, looking strangely at Dael. “That’s right, and she’ll need to be replaced.”
Dael’s expression turned mutinous. “But not by me. You know why.”
My eyes narrowed on the pair. I’d missed something important in the exchange. My mouth opened to ask what, when I saw the approaching members of the Council over Dael’s left shoulder. My mouth snapped shut, and my heartbeat picked up.
Leta's expression was cool as she approached. She spared a brief nod to Pinna and Dael. Mirra she ignored entirely.
She turned to me. “Sirris, we are having an emergency Council meeting tonight to discuss what happened, and to come to an agreement on what needs to be done going forward. Vandalism and gatherings are one thing, but murder has raised the stakes.”
Her eyes fell on Mirra in open disapproval, and she pinched her lips together as if she wanted to say more about what had happened, but didn’t dare. She finished, “I need you to attend. As heir apparent you have an honorary seat there until the coronation makes it official. I will not say more. We’ll see you tonight. I will send a courier to tell you when and where. We are taking certain precautions to make sure we aren’t as vulnerable again as before.”
I wanted to protest, and tell them I had nothing to offer them, that I didn’t want to be their queen. My home wasn’t beneath the surface of Deep Lake in Tarus. It was above with my friends and father, and one infuriating wolf I’d had feelings for since I could remember. But the expression on Leta’s face didn’t in
vite any response.
I watched as they swam away to the front of the crowd to lead us back. The return trip was much faster, the whip of our fins causing a mile long line of faint bubbles to ascend to the surface in little tornadoes of whirling water.
Before I turned to follow, I caught my sister Mirra’s eye. A seething anger glowed there. I couldn’t blame her. The accusing looks the Council had gifted her had to be a blow. After all, it was Mirra who had fought the hardest the night Min had died to save them. It seemed as if they had conveniently forgotten that fact.
Back in Tarus I changed into black tights and a matching black tunic, the soft material flaring in wispy waves past my hips, the somber color reflecting my mood. Inside the apartment several members of the council gathered, partaking of the refreshments that Pinna had set out for them. I wasn’t in the mood to make nice. Ignoring the curious looks sent to me from my sisters and Dael, I escaped from the apartment and closed the hall door behind me. I stared at the balustrade and the stairs leading down into the central courtyard and downtown market square where the common citizens of Tarus lived. I had no desire to be a stranger in a crowd. Instead, I took the steps leading up, my slippers silent on the stone steps. By the time I reached the open air wall on the top floor, my calves were screaming. The view when I looked up was worth it. On the surface of the lake, night was falling, causing the silk maidens to settle in for the night. But enough of them remained active to fade from the top of the glass dome to a glittery dark plum. The parapet itself wound around the outer sides of the castle, a bricked sidewalk with four-foot walls. A few guards paced off at different corners, heavily armed. But they ignored me, their eyes focused below and out, watching for any threats. That suited me fine. I walked, my mind a whirl of confusion and anger. I didn’t want to attend the meeting. I had nothing useful to say and a lot they didn’t want to hear. And according to Mirra, I had to be careful what I told them. I had no desire to be their lovely messenger, sitting atop some fancy chair and nodding to the masses like I gave a damn. But according to Mirra, I needed to bite my tongue, and remain useful in their eyes. Because if I was no good to them, my life as an Onlander wasn’t worth squat.
#
I was in my bedroom taking a quick nap to catch up on the sleep I’d lost the night before when the courier came, delivering a missive as a small note. I read the instructions, but I didn’t share them. I had been instructed to eat the note when finished. If it hadn’t been penned on banana plantain, I wouldn’t have. But the tasty treat satisfied my sweet tooth, and I almost wished they’d had more to say.
The meeting itself was held in a room below the castle—a room I was sure very few Sylvan or Seascrill knew existed. Despite directions, I would have missed it entirely if I hadn’t met Sans halfway down the damp stone stairs in the near darkness as she gingerly took each step. Too many sharp turns and corridors later, we had to duck to enter a small room. There was nowhere to sit, and nothing cozy about the bare light of the lamp that lit the small space just enough to wreath all our faces in shadow. It was creepy being alone in a hidden dungeon in the castle with a bunch of old warriors.
Councilwoman Leta was waiting for our arrival to begin the meeting. She raised a brow at Sans, who shrugged. “What can I say? These old bones don’t take those steps like they used to.”
She scowled at us both, and I felt like a naughty child.
She turned and addressed the room in a hard voice. “I called this meeting to discuss what happened and what we are going to do about it in the future. We should be under no illusion that the attack was an oversight by our troops, and that they were negligent. Believe me, I would rather that be the case. It was not. The troops on the pool and the outer perimeter executed their jobs precisely and as ordered. The guards that should have been at our apartment door were relieved as planned, but their relief was members of the resistance, who drugged them and put them in the downstairs hall closet, which left the apartments unguarded just long enough. That, along with knowledge of the outer troops’ movements, speaks of the resistance, and an inside job. Someone has betrayed us, and I want to know who!” Her voice had risen to thunderous proportions. I wondered if maybe our secret meeting in a hidden part of the castle was so no one could hear her ranting. I fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the lash of her ire, but I didn’t disagree. I’d come to the same conclusion in the first hour after the battle, while I was still trying to process the senseless attack on our oldest members of the Council.
She continued, spitting the words out as if she’d tasted something particularly foul. “This… Dragon Rebellion…has moved beyond just being an annoyance. They are a threat to the sanctity of the Council, our Royal Family, and the government of Tarus itself. The insurrection must be quelled, and someone is answering for Min’s death!”
“Agreed. Someone needs to answer for what they did. But I think you are all missing a critical point,” spoke a voice from the back and I craned my neck to see the speaker. Dael stepped forward, making it easy as he loomed head and shoulders above the crowd.
Leta growled back at him, “What are you doing here? You haven’t been crowned yet. Wait until after the wedding.”
His eyes narrowed, and he ground out, “I’m not here to discuss wedding plans. I am a citizen of Tarus before anything else, and I love this city. If you want my cooperation, then don’t shut me out. And again, the point. We are missing it!”
The leader’s lip curled, and she sneered at Dael in disdain, “And, young pup, just what is that? Let’s see, we were attacked. Check. Someone broke into our private quarters while we slept. Check. There is a traitor in our midst, orchestrating the fall of our entire government unless he/she is stopped. Check. Did I miss anything?”
I’d always seen my childhood friend, Dael, as lighthearted and full of humor. The serious young man standing stubbornly in our midst was a stranger. “Yes, I believe you missed the entire point.”
It escaped no one’s attention that he hadn’t included the rest of us in that statement. It was a deliberate dig. She ignored it.
“Go on,” she gritted.
“Why, Councilwoman Leta, that’s what we need to know. We agree they are all part of the resistance. In the last few months, the number of supporters has continued to grow. That tells me that the citizens, and especially the younger population, are not satisfied with how things are being run in Tarus and Deep Lake.”
“Nonsense. We keep them safe. We know what’s best for them,” she scoffed.
I could almost hear his teeth grind from where I stood. “Do you protect them? Or control them? What kind of life is there for their children? They have nothing to work towards. No skills to pursue advancement. They aren’t allowed to attend seminary past the 8th grade, which leaves most of the skilled jobs they might want out of the question. And marriages are still arranged, with no thought given to love or compatibility. And then the Seascrill, they have it even worse. The Council has been a necessary venue to keep them and Tarus secure for hundreds of years. But times are changing, and so are we.”
“You’re speaking heresy. Maybe you aren’t the most logical choice for the king,” she spat, her eyes flashing in outrage. Several members of the Council gasped, shuffling in their chairs in unease.
“Change is coming, Leta, whether you want to admit to it or not. I think we have a choice here. We can be part of the solution for the good of Tarus, or we can stand firm on old ideologies, and lose it all to the Dragon Rebellion, whose forward thinking and desire for change, any change, is sounding mighty tempting to too many. As for crowning me king? Perhaps you are right, and I’m not what you want. I won’t be the figurehead in the background for you to control and manipulate as has happened in the past. Those days are over.”
Before he’d finished speaking, he pushed his way through the other members, already finished and heading for the exit. His eyes caught mine, dark and troubled. But he said nothing more, his broad back disappearing through the door.
The rough rasp of an old voice, bitter and cold, made me turn back. Someone else was speaking. “Young fool. Who does he think he is? We’ve run things the way we have for over a hundred years now because it works. Perhaps the only change needed here is a different king-elect. Young Dael sounds like he approves of the resistance, talking like that. Are we sure we can trust him? I think we should look closer at the Captain of the Guard, Shade. Now there is an upstanding Tarian. He would lead with an iron fist.” Her eyes fell on me, flat and mean. “And are we sure we are ready to have an Onlander sitting on the throne as well?”
I remembered the leader had addressed her as Hanya, and she was one of the oldest members. Her age made her no less frightening. Several members hissed in alarm at her words. But not all. Others glared at me, their dissatisfaction with the current arrangement obvious.
Hanya continued. “We should seat a real Sylvan there. Pinna would be a wonderful choice. She’s pure of blood and would represent the people with elegance and diplomacy. She’s likable.”
And weak, I thought. She would have been the puppet they could control. It made me wonder why they were so insistent that I be crowned. Surely they had to know I wouldn’t be as gullible.
Leta spoke up, silencing the group. “You know the law. Sirris is the oldest, and her Onlander ties mean a stronger commerce and trade for goods and services we can’t provide ourselves.”
Hanya huffed, mouth in a flat line. “Do you think so? I, for one, think that particular law is one that should be broken. See, I suppose I don’t think Dael is all wrong.”
I said nothing, trying my best to fade into the background and remain unnoticed. Hanya had been right about one thing. I wasn’t the best choice for the throne, though I questioned Pinna as the proper choice, either. The Council had been in charge too long, and Pinna’s ‘un-leadership’ would guarantee more of the same.
Rule 9 Academy Series Boxset: Books 3-5 Young Adult Paranormal Fantasy (Rule 9 Academy Box Sets (3 Book Series) 2) Page 59
