by Raye Wagner
And it certainly couldn’t get any worse.
11
Adaline
Adaline couldn’t cry anymore. She’d shed countless tears, buckets full. Any more were physically impossible; her tear ducts were dry. A deep ache consumed the space beneath her ribs, and she wasn’t even sure her heart was beating anymore. Not that it mattered. Adaline had left her cold, dead heart on the marble slabs beside her mother and sister. As far as the new crown princess was concerned, only one thing mattered:
Revenge.
Adaline strode through the palace courtyard in her riding habit, a horsewhip held loosely at her side. She rarely used the tool on her horses, but she was seriously considering wielding it on a certain guard stalking her.
Adaline needed answers, and the page from Beloch was the most promising lead they’d had yet. Crossing paths with the soldier who’d captured the young man this early was a blessed serendipity, for the other two prisoners from Beloch had died before she’d even been able to question them. Not that Adaline could blame her aunt. Dimira was just as outraged over the loss of the royal family. But torturing before interrogation seemed backward. At least to the princess.
So far this morning, Evzan hadn’t said a word of criticism to Adaline. He hadn’t said a word at all, only followed her around like a stone-faced shadow from the castle to the stable and then back to the castle again.
Adaline stepped inside; the sweat dripping down her neck and under her shirt chilled her skin with the cooler temperature. She descended the dungeon steps, pausing as the stench of unwashed bodies and human waste wafted up the stairwell.
“You don’t have to do the questioning,” Evzan said, his voice hushed as he followed close behind. Before she could protest, he continued, “But I understand why you think you do.”
She swallowed the lump of emotion gathering in the back of her throat and squared her shoulders. She couldn’t reason if Evzan was right or wrong, but it didn’t matter. Taking a deep breath through her mouth to avoid the smell, Adaline raced down the stairs. Both men’s and a woman’s voices rose in volume as Adaline descended. When she was ten feet away from the bottom, Adaline recognized her aunt’s.
“What do you mean?” Dimira snapped, her voice coming from inside the nearest cell. “How could you know the tsar had anything to do with this?”
Adaline skidded to a stop, her dead heart thundering to life as she processed her aunt’s words.
“I used to work at Strasny manor, ma’am. Lord Baine is the tsar’s nephew. I saw them both—”
The crack of a whip was followed by a tortured scream, and Adaline swayed on her feet as the walls rolled.
The man whimpered and blubbered indecipherable words of groveling that made Adaline’s stomach churn. She needed to get it together so she could go in and question him. How had they captured him if he lived in the heart of Rizy?
“Did you see them? Do you know it was the tsar?”
The man’s blubbering continued, and Adaline strained to make out the words. “Saw both the queen and princess . . . Baine kept them . . . dungeon . . . Tsar raped her . . . deserved to know . . . truth.”
Adaline blinked, struck dumb and immobile by the horror of the young man’s words. Was he saying the tsar raped and killed her mother and sister?
“Execute him,” Dimira said.
Panic welled from deep within Adaline’s soul. They couldn’t execute the man, not before she’d questioned him. She ran forward, yelling, “Wait.”
Adaline rounded the corner to the cell just in time to see the executioner’s ax sever the young man’s head from his body. Blood gushed from the neck, spilling dark crimson life all over the straw-covered floor, and the body struggled to free itself from the bindings for one gruesome moment before limply accepting death. The head rolled toward Dimira, and the queen regent kicked it away.
Adaline fell to her knees and retched. Her vision tunneled, and her stomach revolted, refusing to hold the few bites of breakfast Adaline had managed to choke down earlier. She heaved, tears and snot dripping to the filthy straw. But she couldn’t even look up at her aunt. Adaline closed her eyes, refusing to see any more that would confirm the awful truth.
“Get her out of here, Evzan. How did she even get down here?” Dimira asked, her voice now weary. “No one should have to deal with this kind of atrocity.”
No one should, but that didn’t mean no one would.
At least Adaline now had confirmation of her foe, and Beloch would pay. She would tear through the country and destroy the tsar and his nephew for what they’d done.
The sun’s rays mercilessly assaulted Adaline as she crossed the courtyard toward the palace stables. She’d not returned since seeing her mother’s and Mari’s bodies, but Adaline was done with cowering in her room.
Two months had passed since her father was murdered in Beloch. One month of knowing who, but there was nothing Adaline or her aunt could do. Beloch was protected by the Phoenix Fire, a magical defense that had, in the past, prevented the odd traveler from passing through. The defense had been there as long as Adaline could remember. Merchants and tradesmen usually passed with no trouble; she’d traveled through the Fire many times without care.
Now the wall might as well be solid steel.
Enraged citizens of Cervene joined the cause every day, arriving in droves, only to be thwarted by the invisible defense no soldier could pass. Those who tried were blown back. The entire situation made no sense to the princess.
Footsteps sounded behind Adaline, but she refused to look back, picking up her pace instead. Above, the trade winds whipped the castle standards high on the crenellation, piercing the blue sky with swaths of violet and gold. Adaline rushed toward the stable doors where a servant waited with her horse saddled as requested. Her gray gelding, Thunder, appeared as restless as she felt. He kicked the dirt, lifting clouds of dry summer dust into the warm morning air.
“Thank you, Jaque,” she said to the young, sandy-haired stable hand as she hastened her steps. She’d sent the order in secret this morning, hoping to lose Evzan while he waited for his horse to be saddled.
Bull dust.
Evzan caught up with her as she crossed the yard, and they reached for her reins at the same time. He covered her hands with his and, standing just behind Adaline, called out to the servant, “I ordered a horse saddled as well.”
“Yes, sir!” The wide-eyed boy rushed away like Evzan might give chase.
But Evzan stayed rooted directly behind the princess.
Despite the day’s warmth, she could feel the heat of his arm up the length of hers. Adaline was trapped between him and the horse. She glared over her shoulder and whispered, “Now you’re reading my notes to the servants?”
He leaned in, his voice going low as his breath caressed her neck. “No, Princess. You’re just utterly predictable.”
She shivered and yanked her hand out from under his. Ducking under his arm, she said, “Fine, do as you please. You always do.”
She crossed to the other side of her horse and mounted. Finding her seat, she turned to see Evzan mounting his chestnut stallion. His beast was far too impressive for a guard. But the warhorse was loyal to Evzan and no one else, so ownership was clear.
Adaline clicked her tongue, not even waiting for Evzan to get situated, and led her gelding into a brisk walk. Once again, Evzan caught up, and as soon as they’d passed the bailey, Adaline pushed her mount into a canter. They took the royal entry to the outer grounds of the castle and the rolling hills of the royal pastures beyond and picked up the pace again. Thunder’s impatience matched Adaline’s, and when they reached the wide, packed-dirt of the Royal Avenue leading to the border with Beloch, Thunder’s muscles coiled, and he galloped forward. Wind whipped past Adaline, lifting her golden locks, and her hair streamed out behind her. She felt Evzan’s presence at her side, but she closed her eyes to everything except the freedom of running.
The horses slowed as they approached a sheer
drop, the clifftop a perfect overlook down to the main thoroughfare used for border crossings.
“So many soldiers,” Adaline whispered as she looked over the sea of canvas tents, the hundreds of fire pits, and the innumerable meandering bodies clogging the Jardin Valley. She’d been told more than a hundred thousand men had rallied to the cause, but the number felt insubstantial to describe what she saw before her.
“Those aren’t all soldiers,” Evzan said, his rough voice laced with frustration. “Half of them are angry, restless commoners waiting at a door that will never open. Someone should tell them to go home before they impoverish the kingdom. Otherwise, they’ll eventually turn on us when we can no longer feed them.”
“Aren’t you inspiring?” she scoffed his pessimism. “Maybe you should go in front of them and give that speech as a call to war.”
Adaline led Thunder back to the royal road leading down to the valley and the border.
“I will if you ask me to. I’ll give them that exact speech,” Evzan said, directing his massive destrier to trot beside her.
“It’s Dimira’s orders you answer to now,” Adaline said, rolling her eyes but keeping her gaze pointedly to the road.
“Oh, yes, right. I forgot . . . You gave away your kingdom,” he said darkly.
“For three months.” She shook her head, exasperated. “I needed a regent until I come of age, and I have no one else. By all the djinn, Evzan, is there anything I do of which you approve?”
He didn’t answer, which most likely meant there wasn’t.
An awkward moment passed, and then he said, “If you’re planning on ascending the throne in three months, shouldn’t you be preparing to rule? Dimira spends most of her days in council meetings and the rest of the time with members of the court. If she’ll only hold the throne until just after autumn equinox and celebration of Leiba, shouldn’t you be accompanying her?”
“Why are you so worried? What my aunt is doing will aid me when I take the throne. And what does it matter if it’s three months or five, Evzan? That’s not my priority.” She nudged her horse to pick up the pace and did not slow until the border of Beloch spread out before her.
The wall was nearly invisible, its only tell an iridescent glimmer in the air, a sheen reflected by the grueling sun. At the base of the border, the dry grass split to either side of the demarcation between the two kingdoms. Reining in, Adaline dismounted.
She gripped her sheathed sword at her side and strode toward the wall. She’d heard reports of what happened to those who’d attempted to cross, but Adaline had passed through this border all of her life with no ill effect.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Evzan said, crossing his arms over his chest. He remained in his saddle as if to reinforce how stupid and futile her actions were.
“Well, you’re not me,” she said as she strode straight for the divide.
Every other time Adaline walked through the border of the Phoenix Fire, it had been like passing through air; she’d crossed the border and felt nothing. But this time, when her foot touched the wall, a force hit her like the back legs of a bucking horse. Her breath whooshed from her lungs, and Adaline flew backward, landing hard before skidding several inches in the dirt. The smell of singed leather drew her attention to her feet, and the princess swatted where smoke rose from a hole in her left boot.
Gasping for breath, she rolled up to a sitting position.
“I told you, Adaline—” Evzan said.
“Silence! I’m not going to let the wall keep me from avenging my family.” If she couldn’t get through with her sword, she’d just find one on the other side. She stood, stripped off her sword and scabbard, and charged the barrier.
The force smashed into her head first, rattling her teeth as she tumbled in the dry grass, rolling several feet before stopping. Spitting out dirt, grass, and blood, Adaline ran her tongue over a split lip. Pain blossomed across her forehead, and she touched the tender spot, wincing as she felt the burn. The coppery taste in her mouth and burn on her head only made her see red.
Tears dripped down her face. She wasn’t even sure when she started crying, but the injustice shredded her soul.
That wall.
It protected everyone she hated. She choked on a sob, her grief raw and painful, and her mourning turned to blind rage. She was going to get through that wall.
“You can’t get through,” Evzan said as if he could hear her thoughts, suddenly standing over her, his hand stretched down to help her up.
She ignored his hand and pushed back up to her feet, the dry grass crunching under her.
“I’ll get through,” she vowed. “They don’t get to be safe and warm and happy while my family lays on cold rock, corpses slowly decaying.”
Blood, tears, and snot dripped down her face, and she wiped at it with the back of her hand, leaving a gruesome streak. Some small sliver of her mind told her this was irrational, but Adaline didn’t just ignore that voice, she punched it into silence. “I’ll get through. I’m going to get my army through. And then I’m destroying all of Beloch.”
She bellowed her rage as she charged The Phoenix Fire once more. She would have justice for her family; it was her right to demand it, and no power would stop her.
Adaline ran full force, her determination driving her at the iridescent barrier. She screamed, releasing her rage as she charged toward the only impediment for justice. As she drew close, she threw herself at the barrier, chest first with her arms wide.
Blinding light exploded behind her eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest, and the energy that repelled her threw her several feet in the air, sucking the breath from her lungs as it crushed her. The world spun, her stomach churned, and every muscle in her body seized. The seconds were hours of agony before her limp body crashed into a boulder by the roadside. Adaline whimpered, stunned, only vaguely registering that someone was screaming her name in the darkness. A heavy weight landed on her, and she gasped for breath. She was going to die, and Adaline couldn’t muster the energy to even care.
Several seconds passed, and the darkness faded. Adaline blinked her eyes open and struggled to her feet, batting at the singed remains of her tunic. Her skin was red and blistered across her chest, and much of her clothing was in tatters.
Evzan, who’d been crouched beside her, also stood, his gaze wary as he watched her.
She swallowed, her throat raw as if it, too, had been burned.
“Stop,” he said.
“No,” she whispered through her tears. The pain outside was only starting to match the anguish she felt within.
“It’s not going to work.”
Maybe he was right. Perhaps she would never get through, but Adaline wasn’t going to stop. She couldn’t. If she stopped trying, no one else would. And if she couldn’t avenge her family, she would die trying. She shifted on her feet, taking one and then two shuffling steps forward.
Evzan marched into her path and grabbed her shoulders. “Stop this foolishness, Adaline. You’ll never break through, and it’s ridiculous to keep trying.”
Swaying on her feet and panting for air, she glared up at him. Two, no three angry Evzans swam before her eyes. “Let go. I passed through here as a child. There is a way, and I’m going to find it. Don’t you dare tell me it’s impossible.”
“Obviously something has changed between then and now,” he said, his voice rough, still holding her back from advancing.
Adaline blinked, and the three Evzans coalesced into one, and his appearance shifted. Rubies appeared on his tunic, and the coarse wool he wore smoothed into leather armor. His skin glowed like moonlight, and several scars fissured up the side of his face. She blinked again, and the vision was gone, leaving Evzan and his familiar features glowering down at her. His nostrils flared, and he averted his gaze.
She glanced at her body only to see she was half-naked, her clothing burned in several wrong places to maintain her modesty. She should be embarrassed, especially as he was touching her, hi
s large, rough hands on her mostly bare shoulders. But in this moment, she didn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything but breaking through the wall.
Evzan swallowed, his attention returning to her, and his eyes widened as he held her gaze.
The tension between them pulled at something deep in her chest. For one mad moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, and it caught her so off guard her mind went blank.
Then he said, “Those burns are pretty bad. We should get you back to the castle and have the physician look at them.”
Hot embarrassment surged up her neck, the blush spreading, declaring the princess’s stupidity. Adaline closed her eyes, mortified, desperately wanting to hide. What was wrong with her? Evzan wasn’t going to kiss her. He despised Adaline, and she didn’t like him much either. She stepped back to get out of his grasp, needing distance, and her voice rasped when she spoke. “It’s not that bad.”
He furrowed his brow, his gaze darkening as he continued to study her face. His thumbs brushed her skin, perhaps assessing the damage. The tension continued to climb, and his lips parted. He stepped closer, but when Adaline stepped back again, his jaw tightened, and he dropped his hands to his sides, curling his fingers into fists.
Forcefully, she broke their shared gaze to look back toward Beloch. Swallowing did nothing to clear the lump at the base of her throat, and her voice remained grating as she said, “It’s me, isn’t it? That’s what’s changed between then, when I could walk through the wall, and now; it’s me. I’ve changed.”
In her periphery, she saw Evzan turn toward the wall as well. When he spoke, his rich baritone voice was tinged with sadness. “Perhaps it’s why you want to cross the wall that’s changed.”
“You’re right then.” She nodded slowly, acknowledging defeat. “It’s not going to work.”
