The three candidates shifted in place. There was a faint murmur around the circle. Apparently Juniper wasn’t the only one confused by the direction of Odessa’s speech.
Odessa paused. Then she said, with a carefully casual air, “Are there any further candidates who wish to join the Trials?”
Like a landing thunderclap, Juniper understood. What had Zetta said about Juniper’s mother? Alaina had been Firstblood. Juniper had no idea about the two other girls, but Zetta’s mother had been only Secondblood. This measuring of bloodline was their primary recommendation. And what of the rest—the fire to lead, the will to prevail? Juniper had been raised to rule her whole life. She was already queen of her own tiny kingdom. And what was more, she needed the Anju. Even now her father was being held captive—or worse, but no, she couldn’t allow herself to think that, not for a second—her palace and home were overrun, and who knew what havoc the Monsian army was wreaking upon Torr?
Odessa had told her the Council could never be persuaded to join an attack upon Monsia, for the Anju would take up arms only in self-defense. But what if Juniper was their ruler? The attack on Torr, then, would be seen as an attack upon one of the Anju—upon her, their leader. So how could they then disagree with sending an army in response? It wouldn’t be an offensive attack at all, but a defensive one. The greater army would be hers to command.
Juniper needed to rule the Anju.
To be their ruler, she needed to win the Trials.
Heart pounding wildly, Juniper leaped to her feet. In a loud, clear voice, she proclaimed, “Juniper, daughter of Alaina. I accept the Trial. May the best prevail.”
11
AS THE WORDS LEFT JUNIPER’S LIPS, THE crowd erupted as half the gathered Anju leaped to their feet in outrage and dismay. The Queen’s Basin group was stunned to silence; even Cyril sat slack-jawed with shock. Odessa stood a little to the side, a satisfied smile on her lips as she waited for the gathering to settle. Juniper’s attention, however, was fixed on Zetta. At Juniper’s words, Zetta had reeled back like she’d been slapped. She gaped in shocked betrayal; an instant later, her eyes narrowed and her open face slammed shut.
The answer to Juniper’s earlier question was plainly visible. Zetta wanted this rulership badly. And now Juniper was pushing in to fight her for it. One thing was abundantly clear: The sliver of friendship that had started growing between the two girls was over and done.
Now they were rivals—nothing more, nothing less.
Swallowing a pang of regret, Juniper straightened her shoulders and met Zetta’s gaze head-on. She wished her decision hadn’t come with such a knife’s-edge cost, wished she could have continued getting to know this girl who, in different circumstances, might quickly have become a friend.
But when it came down to it, Juniper had a father to save and a country to rescue and a war to win. Nothing could get in the way of that.
Nothing at all.
“Bring out the stone!” came a call from within the crowd. “The impostor will not pass the Blood test!”
“Quiet, all,” said Odessa at last, waving her arms. “I recognize Juniper, daughter of Alaina. Her heritage and bloodline are well known to us all.”
“She’s not one of us!” said a lanky, bearded man whose face was marked by a puckered scar.
“Who is she? Where did she come from?”
“We can’t let an outsider push into our tribe and demand to be our ruler, no matter what her blood. It’s not right!”
If she was perfectly honest, Juniper didn’t feel it was entirely right, either.
This didn’t deter her in the slightest. She was her father’s daughter; she would do what needed doing. She needed this rulership. And what was more, she thought, they needed her, too. Already ideas were crowding her mind of ways she could help improve their everyday lives.
“People of the Anju,” she called out, never more aware of her rounded southern accent, so much in contrast with the Anju’s sharp-angled tones. She made her voice as neutral as she could, drawing upon her memory reserves from her mother’s storytelling times. “I recognize that my challenge here today is unconventional, may perhaps even be seen as irreverent. But it is with utmost respect that I offer myself as a candidate. I have no wish to change your ways or to make you into something you’re not. I only know that you are in need of leadership, and this is something I can provide.” Juniper carefully avoided Zetta’s gaze. And that of Alta, Tippy, and Cyril. It was true—there was no end to the good she could do for this people and their tribe. Both of their groups would be infinitely better off in the end!
But first, she had to win.
“Right now you don’t know me, or anything about me. But if I win these Trials, I guarantee that I will work long and tirelessly on your behalf. I may look different from you, I may sound different, but I am one of you in the truest way—by the Blood.”
“The stone shall tell,” muttered the scarred man darkly.
Juniper didn’t have a spare moment to wonder about this, for just then a scuffle sounded behind her. Two strong men—one of whom was Kohr, the guard who had first come upon them by the bridge—lugged a rounded, flat-topped stone between them. This they deposited in front of Odessa, who held up a wicked curved knife.
“Candidates, approach!” called Odessa.
Libba was the first to hold her hand over the stone. Odessa’s knife made a quick, clean stripe across the meat of her palm. A bright crimson drop fell upon the stone’s outer edge. Before Juniper’s fascinated gaze, the red spot trembled and then quivered upward, pushing through what she now saw were concentric circles of rock. One, two, three lines and more it passed, finally settling four bars from the heart of the stone.
“Fourthblood, confirmed,” said Odessa. Libba withdrew, her chin raised proudly.
Zetta was next, and Juniper watched as the blood traveled to the second concentric circle. “Secondblood,” intoned Odessa.
Juniper made to move up next, but a hand grabbed her arm.
“What’s happening here?” Alta’s voice was sharp. “I thought we were leaving at first light! What about Queen’s Basin, the horses, the cat—Juniper, what are you doing?”
“Don’t worry,” Juniper said, ducking to the side with Alta as Tania took her turn at the stone. “I need to do this. We need this.”
“Why? What are you talking about?”
She lowered her voice for Alta alone. “How did you think we were going to attack Monsia? Saunter down across the plains with our motley crew of kids, yelling them a command to lay down their arms and surrender? For days we’ve been trying to come up with a good plan, and you know what? I didn’t have one. Not a real, true option that had a chance of working. Did you?” She looked at Alta, who shook her head. “And now this. Don’t you see? The combined Anju are a force to be reckoned with. You and the others can still head back to Queen’s Basin as we planned, and I’ll join you as soon as I can. But first I’ve got to see this through.”
“So you’re going to use the Anju long enough to get what you need from them, and then cast them aside.”
“Of course not,” Juniper said. “Only think of all the useful progress I could bring to this tribe as their leader! Torr is light-leagues ahead in so many ways—timepieces and fountains and even schedules, in moderation—to name just a few things of countless many. All I need to do is win this tournament, get their help in defeating Monsia, and then . . . well, then we’ll figure out what happens next.”
“I don’t know, Juniper. Your logic makes sense, but something about it just doesn’t feel right to me.”
Juniper drew herself up. “I’m sorry you see it that way. But you know what? I’ll be more sorry if I don’t end up winning this contest. Because if I lose, we all lose. And the whole of Torr with us. It’s that simple.”
• • •
The cut hurt less than she’d expected
. Odessa’s blade was whisper-sharp, and the slice was straight and sure. Juniper watched, fascinated, as a drop of blood bubbled up from the edge of the wound, trembled a moment on her palm, then dropped down to soak into the far outer edge of the stone.
It began moving almost immediately, pushing through the concentric rings without an instant’s pause, before Juniper had time to properly worry, to wonder—her mother had married her father, after all; would this dilute her blood, possibly disqualify her? She had no idea how the blood markers worked, after all. There were maybe a dozen stone rings in all and the blood stripe bypassed each in turn—the eighth ring, the sixth, the fourth . . . finally it passed the second ring from the center, where Zetta’s blood shone out dark.
Juniper’s blood embedded itself in the heart of the stone.
Firstblood, she thought with a thrill. Her mother had been.
And she was, too.
Her father hadn’t been Anju—how was that even possible? Juniper had no idea; nor did she really care. She qualified, and right now that was all that mattered. She couldn’t deny her thrill at seeing that truth spelled out in blood and graphite.
“The Bloodstone has made its pronouncement,” said Odessa formally.
“So recognized,” replied the Elders, who had gathered in a semicircle facing the four candidates.
The rest of the crowd, though, was not nearly so placid. Several of those nearest to the action leaped to their feet; more than one face held looks of shock and dismay.
“What is this treachery?” called the scarred man who had complained earlier.
“Is this not the child of the deserter?” said another. “Is not her blood tainted by default?”
Odessa waved all of this away with a curt chop of her hands. “You have seen the results with your own eyes,” she said. “The matter is closed. The Trial begins upon the third day’s sunrise. Candidates, you will be shown to your quarters momentarily. You may then use the between-time in whatever way you see fit. You have each chosen a second?”
Juniper looked at the others. Each girl nodded in turn, and Juniper now saw that another person stood near each of them—a rounded woman with Tania, tall male figures near both Zetta and Libba. Juniper opened her mouth.
“Your second must be a blood relation,” said Zetta frostily. “If none are available, the role is forfeit. And no one may be chosen who has previously held the role of chieftain.”
Juniper’s mind raced.
“Your second is to go with you on the Trials,” Odessa said, her composure ruffled for the first time. “Providing counsel and guidance and strength when needed. No chief will need to rule alone, and so the sharing of the burden is integral to the testing.”
Juniper reached for Alta, who stood just to her rear. “Alta Mavenham shall be my . . .”
Odessa shook her head. “Is she a blood relation? Else it cannot be so.”
Juniper blanched. Would she really have to go up against Anju competitors not only knowing nothing about their culture, but now also having to face three teams of two competitors all on her own?
This may not have been such a great idea after all.
Then she noticed a shifting of bodies behind her. Several people moved aside. Into the gap stepped Cyril, a toothy smile on his face. “Of your blood? Why, I believe I qualify for that role, do I not, little cousin? I shall be glad to be your second.”
12
THROUGHOUT JUNIPER’S LIFE—FIRST AT THE palace in Torr, and more recently during her rulership of Queen’s Basin—there had been many times when she’d had to bite down some particularly edgy retort that she knew wasn’t right for the moment.
Never had that act been quite so difficult as it was now.
Cyril Lefarge, her second? For long moments, Juniper pondered whether she really would be better off alone than saddled with her double-crossing lug of a cousin.
And yet . . . Cyril did know a lot about the Anju. He’d studied at the Academy. Who knew what sorts of things he’d been taught that might come in handy out in the wild woods? For certainly she had no idea what kinds of challenges would be thrown at her. The more tools in her arsenal, the better.
The truth? His help was an offer she couldn’t refuse.
As to his loyalty and how to keep the self-professed traitor in line, she had a few ideas about that, too.
So she swallowed her distaste and gave a graceful nod. “Cyril Lefarge is my cousin by blood. He will be a suitable second.”
The Elders frowned, then clustered together in a knot to discuss this. They called Cyril over and bombarded him with questions; much of his time seemed to be spent reciting long strings of information—names and genealogies, Juniper had no doubt. Cheered by the thought of his discomfort, Juniper moved off to the side to await the next step in the proceedings.
Instead, she came face-to-face with Zetta. The shock and hurt Juniper had glimpsed earlier was nowhere in sight. The girl’s face was as expressionless as tree bark. Clearly she had plenty of experience tamping down her emotions and keeping them well below the surface. And if her posture was a little more forced, if her eyes sparkled a little too brightly, it could easily have been blamed on the light.
“Juniper, daughter of Alaina,” Zetta said formally. “It is my honor to compete against you in the Trials.” To her credit, she only choked slightly on the word honor. She nearly spat the next words, though: “May the best prevail.”
“Zetta—” Juniper began. But what could she say? She hadn’t set out to fight for the other girl’s throne. Having just been through a challenge to her own rule of Queen’s Basin, Juniper hated to think of putting that pain on someone else. But too much was at stake. Every day that passed might spell disaster for her father, destruction for her kingdom. Live boldly, her father had always told her. Move decisively. Act and then push forward, without hindsight or regret.
Today, she had no other way to live.
Zetta leaned in. “I was born to this rule. It’s my birthright, and I won’t see it stolen away by some outsider. You may think you’re special now, having Mother Odessa on your side. But everyone knows what you two are up to.”
Juniper frowned, glancing over at where the older woman stood, eyeing them askance. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, yes,” said Zetta. “I am onto your little game. The way you arrived here, so conveniently, just at this very time. Her daughter should have been chieftain, in the last cycle. It’s a matter of pride, surely you see that? But she lost the chance; she lost face. Firstblood or not. And now she thinks she can get all of that back by conniving the crown for her granddaughter.”
Zetta’s words dripped with scorn, but inside Juniper’s mind, everything flashed white.
Granddaughter?
Odessa was Alaina’s mother. Juniper’s grandmother.
Was this really true? Her father’s parents had died long before Juniper was born; the idea of grandparents had never really occurred to her before. To discover one now, so unexpectedly, was almost beyond imagination.
“It won’t work. Do you know what Odessa’s rule was like? Her tribesname was Odessa the Merciful.” Zetta spat the word out like venom. “She had grand plans of treaties and joining forces with the lowlanders. And you see where that got her? Defection by her own daughter.” Zetta drew herself up and looked Juniper over from hair to hemline. “You come from weak stock, Juniper, daughter of Alaina, daughter of Odessa. You may have the Blood, but you do not have the spine. I will take you down.”
Before Juniper could reply, Zetta was gone, her tall bodyguard a shadow on her heels.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Alta said in her ear.
Juniper let herself wilt inside, ever so slightly. “I hope so, too,” she whispered.
But really, just then the only thought going through her mind was: My grandmother?!
• • •
The first thing they learned was that the next three days, until the start of the Trials, were to be spent cloistered away in seclusion. Quarters had been prepared for all the candidates, and a Council member informed them that they should proceed there without delay. When Juniper looked across the crowd, however, she saw Odessa moving in her direction. Thanking the elder and assuring him she would follow momentarily, Juniper turned toward Odessa. She took in every aspect of the old woman’s appearance—her long slender fingers, her quicksilver eyes, the graceful lope in her stride.
How had she not noticed these traits, not recognized them for what they were? It was nothing like seeing her mother again—what specifics she could even remember, from her long-ago child’s-eye view. This was entirely different: not a call but an echo, not a vision but its shade, brief disconnected bars of a melody long forgotten that now swelled a chorus inside her very soul.
The old woman met her gaze head-on, face unreadable. Juniper’s mouth was dry. How was she supposed to start this conversation? But she hadn’t come so far to lose words now. You are a princess and a queen and a challenger to the throne of the Anju, she told herself sternly. Now grow up and act like it!
“Zetta told me something just now,” she said carefully. Odessa’s expression suggested she ought to tread lightly. “Something about your—our—shared past.”
Odessa expelled a long breath. “So. You’ve heard.”
“It is true, isn’t it? You—my mother—we—” Words were such slippery things, Juniper realized. How had she never understood this before?
While she grappled, Odessa put a hand on her arm. “Child,” she said, low and gentle, “it is true. And there is much we need to talk of, you and I. Much and more.” For a moment her eyes seemed almost to brim, then she brought her features under control. “But now is not that time. Currently I am in my role as Council member. And you are in yours as candidate for chieftain. You understand why we must not be seen spending time together in conversation?”
Princess Juniper of the Anju Page 10
