He went flying to the ground, landing in a puff of dirt, his honey gold eyes wide as saucers. “The king’s whims are commands to you, Ender, perhaps you’d best remember that.”
His eyes flashed as he looked at me, a hand going to the knife on his left thigh. Simmy yanked me hard. “Run, before he’s to his feet.”
I took heed of her words. I’d attacked a king’s Ender, a whipping offense at the least. Worse I was sure if Ash caught me. Spinning, my hair strung out behind me as I ran from the fields, a smile on my lips.
Whipping offense or not, it was worth it to see the shock on his face, the widening of those eyes always so in control.
So, totally worth it.
Chapter 3
My best dress was something of a throwback to an era gone by. My mother’s finery was really all I had left to me of her, and I seldom wore it for fear I would ruin the tiny stitching and expensive materials. Tonight, though, I had to stand in front of my father’s and our people, and I needed all the armor I could muster.
The sky blue gossamer gown floated on the breeze making it feel as though I wasn’t wearing anything at all. With a square cut neckline and sleeves that looped low over my arms, leaving my shoulders bare, it flattered my body, as it no doubt had flattered my mother’s. The bodice ran snug down to my hips where the gossamer was left untamed and allowed to flow as the wind would take it. I fingered the simple teardrop diamond that sat in the hollow of my throat. A gift from my father to my mother on the day of my birth, a precious gem for the love of his life. Or so my mother had told me. I’d twisted my hair into an elaborate cluster of curls with Simmy’s help, but a few tendrils had escaped their confines as I’d walked to the Spiral and they now spilled down my back.
“Scared?” Coal stood at my side, escorting me as was his tradition, even when we’d been fighting. Like tonight.
“I hate sitting in there, everyone looking at me.” Their eyes full of pity. I didn’t say that part, but Coal heard me loud and clear. He turned me toward him, his hands on my arms.
“You are a beautiful, amazing woman, no matter your abilities, Lark. You have to remember that. You are a princess; don’t let them treat you elsewise.” He kissed my forehead and our fight from the morning was gone. These were the moments I knew he was a good man. That I was happy he was in my life.
I nodded and was about to go in when I caught a glimpse of blond hair and Ender leathers. Ash obviously hadn’t said anything to anyone about me knocking him down or I’d have been taken to the whipping post already. Which meant he didn’t want to be embarrassed by telling someone I’d bested him. Even if it wasn’t really a fight, it didn’t matter; I had the upper hand now.
Stiffening my back, a smirk on my lips, I stepped into the Spiral, my bare feet on the warm wooden flooring. All around me, the room was lit with lightning bugs and candles. The bugs darted around the room, lighting up the recesses, and the candles flickered and sputtered with the tiny breezes the bugs caused. Everyone was dressed in his or her finery. The bringing forward of complaints happened only once every season, which was my excuse for forgetting it was my turn to sit at my father’s feet while he listened to the concerns of his people. With five other siblings, it was easy to forget where I fit in.
The room was decorated in thick hanging ivy that bloomed with impossible flowers. Flowers that would never bloom on ivy, or on this continent for that matter. But the contrast of deep, dark green and fragrant exotic beauties tugged at my senses and I stepped forward.
Ahead of me a murmur of voices swelled in conversation that stuttered and stopped as I swept by each group of people. Testers, those who decided if an elemental was worthy of moving up in the ranks, Ambassadors from the other three families, Walkers, those who went into the human world to help where they could, and the Shifters—all fell silent as I passed. The Planters waved to me, I was one of their own and they were more than a little proud that a princess worked by them in the fields. It didn’t matter to them that I was weak, or that none of them really wanted to be my friend, they saw me as a direct connection to the king. I smiled at Simmy, who waved a calloused hand at me, but the next group stole that smile. My siblings.
Five of them, starting with the oldest, Vetch. He was a real piece of work and we locked eyes as I drew close. He favored his mother in coloring, dark-haired and green-eyed. Short and stocky, he thought he was a real ladies’ man, but in truth, the ladies were afraid to say no to the crown prince. Next in line for the throne was Belladonna. She was five years older than me and unwed, though not for lack of trying. Rich chestnut hair spilled down her shoulders in carefully manicured waves that she curled around her fingers whenever she caught a man looking at her. The demure lowering of lashes over her light gray eyes was a seriously false advertisement. Demure, she was not.
Beside her, mimicking every move she made was Keeda, named for a flower Cassava had seen bloom in winter. Her hair was the lightest of my siblings, a dirty blonde that she darkened to be more like Belladonna’s. She and her twin sister, Briar, were identical, right down to their hazel eyes. Briar, though, was sweet, where Keeda worked hard to be as difficult as Belladonna.
Last born was Raven, who came into the world a mere month after me. He looked nothing like the rest, his blue eyes and jet black hair reminding me more of a certain guard who’d been on duty with the queen for years. No one said anything, but the family knew Raven was as much a bastard as me. The difference was simple, though, he was strong where I was weak. And his mother would never allow anyone to claim one of her children as a bastard. It would be instant banishment.
The three girls clustered together, pointing at my clothes and then tittering. Keeda took the point on their attack. “Doesn’t she know that she looks like an old lady in that?”
They were dressed in the most recent human convention of skin tight, shiny material that left nothing to the imagination. “At least I don’t look like a human’s painted whore.”
The room, so silent as it was with my passing, drew in a collective breath.
“Daughter, how kind of you to join us.” My father stood from his throne and I immediately dropped into a curtsey.
“Your Majesty,” I murmured.
Raven came to my side and held out an arm. “Sister, may I escort you?”
I placed a hand on his elbow and nodded, grateful. Raven and I knew we both stood on rocky ground, and he often came to my defense. Of all my siblings, he and I were the closest.
“You look lovely, they are jealous ‘cause they can’t pull off any amount of grace,” Raven said as we walked the last thirty feet at a slow, sedate pace.
“Thank you, Raven.” I squeezed his arm. “How has it been?”
“Oh, the same. Plotting against one another, bickering, doing nothing of import. Father is happy, which makes me think perhaps he’s found a new mistress, and mother is more violent than usual, which confirms it. Also, to be noted, that is the reason she chose not to come today. Said she was tired of being compared to sluts.”
For that alone, the relief flowed through me. Seeing Cassava would only make the reality of my dream harder to dispute, just one more reason to avoid coming to the Spiral. I raised an eyebrow and scanned those closest to the throne. “Any idea who father might be bedding?”
“I was hoping you might be able to help with that. You seem to have a knack for digging out the truth.” Raven smiled up at me and I laughed. Of that, he was right. I scanned the room again, and saw one face that stood out. Rich auburn hair, so dark the red tones were hard to see, caught my eye first. And then her deep green eyes fairly glowing with the burn of new love, and in one glance between her and my father I knew I was right.
“Good goddess, he’s seeing a child,” I grumbled.
Raven slowed our walk even more, dragging out our time together. “Who is it?”
“The one on the right, there in the green dress that matches her eyes. Her name is Fern, she is a few years younger than you and me.” I could sca
rcely believe it, but there, another glance between them confirmed it. A sigh slipped out of me. “Don’t tell your mother. Goddess knows, it will fuel her rage if she sees how young he’s gone this time.”
“Point taken, and now I must leave you, sister. Good luck.” He gave me a wink, bowed, and left me to stand directly in front of our father.
King Basileus still cut a sharp figure, despite his advanced years. We didn’t age like the humans. At around the thirty-year mark, our bodies just stopped maturing, allowing us longer than normal lives. There were a few in the family who looked old, which meant they had been around a very long time indeed. And no, you don’t ask how old they are, it’s rude.
My father’s time on this side of the soil had not aged him, and his body was as firm as those of his Enders. Deep brown hair with hints of auburn and a few flecks of silver, that was long enough to be braided, but he left it to flow down his back. A number of the men tried to emulate it, but couldn’t really pull it off. He wore a full beard that was trimmed close to his jaw, showing off the lines of his face and again, emphasizing he was still a man to be reckoned with. His eyes, though, they were what captivated me. Deep, dark forest green that sometimes faded to black when angry. But today I was in luck. His new love had softened him, and his eyes sparkled with good humor and a relaxation I hadn’t often seen on him. I let out a sigh of relief and curtseyed again. “Father.”
“Come, sit by me, Larkspur.”
I made my way up to the dais and sat at his feet as he lowered himself onto his throne. “You look like your mother in that dress,” he said softly, putting a hand on the top of my head. I closed my eyes and leaned into his hand, wanting nothing more than to feel his approval.
“I am glad it pleases you, Father.”
“It does. Now, let us see what today’s supplicants bring.” He clapped his hands and spoke over the crowd. “Come, let those who would be heard step forward.”
A small number of people came through the crowd, lining up in a proper fashion.
The first was a Tender from the outer edge of the forest, far to the east. He made a stiff legged bow. “Your Majesty, the trees are dying in our section of the forest. There seems to be no natural cause. Would you consider sending one of your healers to us? I fear we will lose too many and then whatever this is will get away from us.”
My father considered, closing his eyes as he thought it over. When he opened his eyes, I already knew the answer, could see it easily. He shook his head. “No, it is the way of the forest, some must die so that others may live. If it is still a concern in the next season, come again and we will revisit this.” The supplicant slumped, and nodded. What else could he do? It was the word of the king.
But I knew what it meant to the Tender, similar enough to the Planters in their duties. Leaving a potential disease to run rampant was not a good idea. In the planting fields, blight on the seedlings, if left untreated, could spread like a wildfire. You could lose not only the crop, but also the fields they lay in if you were not diligent in scourging the blight clean. I frowned up at him. “Father, may I speak?”
“Of course, that is what you are here for.” His tone, though, said otherwise. I swallowed my trepidation and raised my voice, knowing the shaky ground I traversed.
“I think, perhaps, you should reconsider and send a healer. Just one, to evaluate the dying trees. If there is truly nothing to worry about, then it will not tax you to send a single healer. But if there is a cause for this, a need for help, you will be further ahead of what could become an out of control disaster.”
He laughed and the crowd laughed with him. It took everything I had not to drop my chin. “My daughter, the Planter, thinks to advise me. Fine, to ease your worries, child, I will send a healer. Just one, though.”
The supplicant gave a sigh of relief and bowed to us both. He scooted forward, took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, a submissive gesture. “Thank you, Princess.”
Heat suffused my cheeks, as much for the bow and the kiss, as the way my father had mocked me. In front of everyone, as if he didn’t care that I was sitting right there.
And that was the main reason I hated to come to these things. I wanted him to love me like he loved my other siblings, but I knew I would never be strong enough for him to do so. Still, I came with hope, and every time I left with less rather than more.
There was a shuffling of bodies as a healer came forward and went with the ranger from the outer reaches. They conversed in low tones and then left together.
Shouting erupted from the far side of the room, and a flurry of gray and brown cloth seemed to spin through the crowd, easily dodging the two Enders attempting to detain him. Or as the case turned out to be, her.
She stopped, breathless at the foot of the dais where she could look up at the king. Which meant I got an up close and personal look into her face. She wasn’t that old, or at least not any older than my father with the way our people aged; it was hard to tell. The silver strands here and there sparkling in her hair gave the biggest indication. Her eyes were tinged with madness. The washed out blue, almost violet, iris in the center shook as if her trembling followed through to even the miniscule parts of her body.
“Your Majesty, a storm comes.” Her head bowed and her shoulders slumped. “A storm, a storm, a storm. You will see, you will see. Finally, you will see what has been in front of you all this time. Your love will know, the Lady Ulani will know, ask her.” She raised her head and looked at me, her eyes and hands beseeching.
At the mention of my mother’s name, the room dropped into a silence borne of horror.
The king stood and then crouched in front of the woman. “Lady Niah, you were once a bard, a singer of songs, and teller of tales. Madness eats at you. This”—he swept a hand toward me—“is Ulani’s daughter.”
Niah looked at me, squinted her eyes, and lowered her voice. The acoustics in the room should have picked up her words, but it was if a blanket were thrown over our three heads, muffling the world outside our tiny circle. “She has the power of Ulani and the power that comes from your bloodline. Yet, she is broken, too.”
My father let out a breath. “I know. She is weak.”
I closed my eyes, and a tear slipped down my cheek. How much harder was it to hear my father say that I was weak? Bad enough that I knew it, that everyone knew it, but to hear it from his lips and know that he thought me useless . . . my heart could barely stand the thought.
“I would hear what the bard must say.”
I stiffened my spine to fight the cringe that wanted to take me over and make me hunch in on myself. Cassava’s voice rang pure and sharp through the room and the world was clear in front of me again. The queen wore a ridiculously skin tight, black dress with a slit clear to her hip, easy to see as she stood over us. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun that left the lines of her face as hard and clean as ever. To some, she would be beautiful, but not to me. Not for the first time I wondered what my father had seen in her.
“Of course, my queen,” Father said.
Niah took a deep breath and I was close enough to see the fear pass through her eyes. “A tale, one that some would call a legend, a child’s story. But it is true and it will come to pass.” Her posture changed as she sat up straight, and lifted her hands to the sky, the ground, to the fire in the east, and the water in the west. An intonation that all she would say was true.
“In the beginning, the mother goddess was lonely. She sought out company from the other gods, but they were too busy meddling in the affairs of men. And so she fell into the arms of her consort. Together, they had five children who would become the founders of the elemental families. Born in order, Earth Child, Fire Child, Air Child, Water Child and finally, a surprise to them both, Spirit Child. Each of their children went on to propagate their own families of elementals. With their immense abilities, they quickly began to conquer the world, taking their leave of their hidden lives, ruling as tyrants over the humans, causing m
ayhem and destruction on a level the world had never seen . . . and so, the mother goddess and her consort chose to remind them that they were not truly gods.
The mother goddess created bindings that would keep the elementals tied to certain parts of the world, and if they left those parts for too long, they would begin to waste away, until they lost all their powers and became . . . human.
Yet, even this did not deter their children who had grown fond of power and the life of ease.
So the mother goddess went to the five nations of man, fashioning for each, a ring. Five rings made to be held in times of need. Rings that would rule a portion of the elemental world, and keep the humans safe from the mother goddess’s children who’d gone astray. With those rings, the humans brought the world into balance, and finally, the elemental families were put to rest, and they made of themselves a help to the world, healing what they could. Occasionally still being destructive, but only when warranted and the humans needed to be reminded they were at the mercy of the earth and her guardians.
Avoiding all these battles was the Spirit Child, for she flitted between the four families, as the youngest of them, never truly settling down. Her heart was pure, and her love true, and she never believed the worst of her siblings, always wanting for them to make peace. The restrictions of the others were never placed on her, and when her siblings realized this, they started to quietly kill off her progeny.
Jealousy and the realization that Spirit’s children could manipulate elemental and human to do what they wanted caused a great deal of fear in them against her. Leaving her line nearly wiped clean except for a few who escaped the slaughter by hiding with the humans.”
Cassava lifted a hand, her eyes flashing with an anger I didn’t understand. “That is enough. We have had enough of your stories. This is a place for supplicants, not mad fools.”
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