“That still seems pretty convenient,” Juniper said.
“Convenient that my mother died so suddenly?” said Zetta, but her tone had no bite. “Or maybe convenient that I cared enough about my people to want to do something to stop their biggest threat, even before I knew it would be required of me?” She shrugged. “You can make what you will of that, I suppose.”
Juniper bit her lip, chastened. “You’re right, that was a terrible thing to say. Do tell me, though. How did you end up cracking that fiery shell?”
At this, Zetta’s face glowed to life. “It’s been an experience, let me tell you. For weeks I came up here—longer, maybe. Observing, like I said, then making a plan. Slowly I introduced myself to the draco, bringing what foodstuffs I could find, venturing a little nearer each time.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
Zetta tossed her head. “No more than I can handle, I assure you. Oh, I won’t say I didn’t feel the singe on more than one occasion. But over time . . . I suppose he became accustomed to me. And I to him. He’s really quite a delicate beast, can you imagine?”
“Is that so,” said Juniper dryly.
“Truly. And now, finally, after much time and more, he is become just as tame as you please. With me, anyway—I can’t speak for anyone else trying to sneak up and game him. Didn’t you see how I had that wisp of a thing around his great maw? A silk scarf, no more! He is a wonder, and I don’t doubt at this moment he’s my dearest friend.”
Juniper digested this in silence. Despite herself, she was impressed. “So when that ‘greatest danger’ question came along—”
“Now you understand the way of it. What else could they have been thinking of when they wrote that? It’s been some time since we’ve had any attacks, but that fiery threat looms large in our memory. I knew what was in mind when that charge was delivered. And perhaps I could have set them straight, explained that the danger they feared was no longer much of a danger at all. But it wouldn’t have been necessarily true, would it? And how would they truly grasp his taming if I were not to show them in true and actual life?”
“So when the Trial came about, you simply . . . flew him on down?”
“Even so,” said Zetta. “They’re savagely intelligent, dracos. I had no idea, before I got to know my dearest. But taking the time to listen and observe, to find out what is important to him . . . What a magnificent creature! I’ve fallen for him rather hard, as you can see. We trust each other, he and I. I’ve even taught him some tricks.” She shook her head ruefully. “Suns, but it feels good to tell someone all of this at last! But you can see why I had to make sure you didn’t come up here with me, when it came time for the final test.”
Juniper did see. And the evidence of this subterfuge—for there was something a little devious in the way Zetta had paraded her triumph over the draco as some sort of brutal conquest, even though the Anju had known he wasn’t dead—should have made Juniper feel better about her own victory.
Strangely, though, it didn’t.
“So,” Zetta said, “you have your rulership. And I know you’ve got plans for that war down in your flatlands.” She shook her head at Juniper’s surprise. “Come on. That’s no great secret. But what happens after that? Are you really going to settle up here in the mountains for good?”
That question had crossed Juniper’s mind, too. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that a lot. This place you have up here—it’s so out of the way. And cold, too. I mean, this is your summer, right?” She frowned at the drifting snow and pulled her cloak more tightly about herself. “In Torr, we’ve got plenty of unsettled pockets of land. I might move everyone down there. Think how much more comfortable life would be—” She stopped at the thunderous look on Zetta’s face. “What? What did I say?”
“That’s your big plan?” Zetta said. “Take over my village and turn it into a silk-screen copy of your Torr? Subjugate my people to your superior customs and traditions, is that it?”
“No . . .” Juniper’s excuses died on her lips. It wasn’t like that.
Was it?
“We have a life here,” said Zetta. “A good life. And if it doesn’t look ideal to you, then maybe you should think hard about whether you really are one of us.”
Juniper had no response to that, so she focused her gaze down the mountain. Through the swirls of papery snow, she could make out the rooftops of the Anju village, peeking from the tree cover. She thought of the cleverly constructed dwellings, the care that had gone into their building and upkeep, all the little necessities of everyday Anju life of which she still had no idea. She thought of the weeks and months Zetta had spent learning about the draco, befriending and taming this wild creature without any thought that it might benefit her someday. Simply seeing her people’s need. She remembered the looks on all the gathered faces as they had swiveled between her and Zetta.
The Anju. They were Juniper’s people, yes . . . but—in a rush, she suddenly knew this for a certain fact—they were not her subjects.
And they never would be.
What would the future hold for the Anju with Juniper as their ruler? She’d thought about this a lot, of course, but Zetta’s questions had crystallized things in a way that felt brand-new. Zetta had been willing to do anything to win, even going so far as to lure Juniper away from the last test. But her motivation had been the protection and safety of—and love for—her people. What was Juniper’s excuse? Gaining command of their army to lead them out against Monsia—she would be using them, just as Zetta had accused. Wasn’t that truly her main reason for wanting the rulership? A valid reason, a necessary and even noble one, from her view.
Nonetheless, it was her reason. Not theirs.
What would happen to them afterward? She tried to picture the whole tribe picking up stakes and moving into a wing of the palace or settling the deserted parcel of land down by Oleo’s Bay, building up their own houses and barns and village stores. She tried to picture Mother Odessa shedding her furs for a frilled gown and satin slippers, Zetta and Tania and Libba walking sedately along the roads of Torrence town, or riding daintily on horseback.
She couldn’t picture any of it.
Juniper had always prided herself in her ability to take one thing at a time, to assess the future in the broadest of terms and sort out the details later. But these particular details were somewhat bigger than those that usually lay on her horizon.
Now she tried to imagine herself actually ruling over this tribe, being responsible for hundreds of people—old and young alike—giving them guidance and instruction on their decisions and movements and everyday lives. Was she really going to continue as their ruler once Torr had been liberated and her father restored to his throne? Move up to the mountains and live here year-round—not in the Basin, even, but here in the treetops, the way a ruler of the Anju must?
And what about this war she was roping them into without their consent? What would this cost the Anju people, being conscripted to fight a battle that was not their own?
If that is the cost of victory, she thought dully, is it truly worth its blood price?
Suddenly she knew that if she let things go on as they were, if she let herself continue along this path, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
Juniper turned to look at the girl sitting next to her. “Zetta,” she said, “will you take me for a ride? I find that I very much want to see how that draco flies.”
• • •
The moment the draco (“Floris,” Zetta screamed over the roaring wind. “I’ve named him Floris!”) leaped off the crag and caught the wind current was one Juniper would vividly remember for the rest of her life. They flew up first, into the sinking sun, and Zetta proudly circled around the Claw several times, guiding him with just a gentle brush of the hand to one way or another. For Juniper’s part, she clung to Zetta’s waist in a death grip, her thighs squeez
ing Floris’s flank so hard, her muscles ached.
But the flight itself—oh, it was magic! Faster than a horse’s full tilt gallop, higher than the tallest treetop climb, the wind-rush far beyond any precipitous dive from a cliff-top pool.
This, Juniper thought, this is a moment to shape all future moments!
Too quickly the trip was over, and Zetta lowered her draco to settle again in the gathering area, half on and half off the main mound. There was a general shrieking and scuttling as the assembled crowd scurried off to both sides. The Queen’s Basin group was all there, and Juniper waved jauntily at their gape-mouthed stares to see her astride so terrible a mount.
As Juniper began to climb down, Zetta leaned in and grabbed her hand. Having said her piece earlier, with the fight for rulership lost and her own future out of her control, Zetta now seemed reconciled to Juniper—friendly, even.
“May the best prevail,” she said, “and you have done that. It was good of you to come up and talk to me. I won’t say I don’t still hate you for showing yourself stronger than me. But your gesture was well met.”
Juniper opened her mouth, but Zetta barreled right over her. “My intentions were good insofar as they went, but I see now that the means of reaching a goal is every bit as important as the goal itself. It’s no good to save the body if you must gut the soul to do so.” She shook her head. “A hard way for me to learn this lesson, but what’s done is done. As for the flood, I truly had no idea it could escalate that rapidly. I intended only to nudge up the pacing a kick or two. I heavily regret the loss of your settlement and any harm done to your people.”
Juniper nodded. It felt good to have this acknowledged, to understand that Zetta had not intended the violence that had nearly befallen them. “We all came through it safely—that’s what matters, I suppose. Anyway, how could you have known what the end result would be?”
“Still,” said Zetta, “it was an inexcusable risk I took. The dangers of the Peakseason Floods are well known to us. You should have had weeks more to prepare—you could have brought everything to safety with time to spare. There’s a reason that cave is forbidden; that’s where the source is for the underground rivers. Oh, I had no idea you’d explode the whole place—I just thought you’d hasten things along a little bit, speed the heating process, and I could send you along with a warning to get you out of the way.” Her mouth twisted. “You went above and beyond my wildest expectations. But I risked lives and livelihoods by my rash decision, and that is unforgivable—”
“Actually,” said Juniper, “actually, it is forgivable. I didn’t have to follow your advice. And blowing up a cave like that, knowing it was so volatile? Not my smartest decision. Let me be clear: What you did was awful. And it could have had the worst of repercussions. If it had . . . I might be speaking a lot differently right now. But providence was on our side, so how can I hold a grudge?” She smiled wryly. “I was trying to steal your throne. I had my reasons, but still. Anyway, I have an apology of my own.”
Juniper let go of Zetta’s arm, and they moved away from the draco, who had tucked his head under his wing, looking so much like an enormous monster chicken that Juniper was temporarily distracted. But she knew she had to move quickly, before she changed her mind.
This was the right decision, she knew it.
But, lands, it would not be easy!
She turned toward the assembled group—all the Anju, by now, and all Queen’s Basin—who had hushed to silence and were giving the two rivals their full attention. Juniper raised her voice. “I have something to say to all of you today: I was wrong. I let my fear for my king and my country cloud my judgment. But here, today, I want to tell you the truth. I have come to realize one true thing—I am not cut out to rule the Anju. You are my people, yes, but I’m not the one who has lived with you, bled with you, fought for you.” She took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.
She faced Odessa. “I know this goes against everything I said this morning. All of that is true, but there is one more thing that must be said. Zetta may have broken the rules, but her motivation was always for you, her people. I respect that you are so honor-bound that you would follow through, even to your own detriment, choosing me as your leader based on the precepts originally set down. But the fact is, I know nothing of your ways, not in their deep and true fullness.” She kept her voice steady. “I would make a terrible Chieftain of the Anju.”
Odessa’s look was unreadable. “What are you saying, Juniper, daughter of Alaina?”
Juniper looked across the group, catching Erick’s eye. He gave her a reassuring nod. “I’m saying that I wish to officially withdraw from this Trial. Please reconsider Zetta for admission in my place.”
• • •
After this, things moved very quickly. The Elders leaped into the preparations for the officiating ceremony, as though afraid that circumstances would change yet again and their new leader would be spirited away from them for good. Zetta’s face flashed through a rainbow of emotions—more than Juniper had ever seen her display—but even as she opened her mouth to speak, her minders swooped in and whisked her away. The look she sent Juniper, though—that look spoke whole volumes. Even Floris let out a bleat—truly, a bleat!—of evident joy.
How was it that a loss could be so much sweeter than a win?
It was, though. To her surprise, she felt a love for this people grow and swell inside, filling her full to bursting. For once, she felt truly a part of them.
In choosing to move away, she’d taken the first step toward truly becoming one of them.
When the ceremony was over, the Queen’s Basin group decided to stay for the evening festivities before setting off back home. There were decisions to make and next steps to consider, but first they needed to close out this chapter. The fine delicacies that were served up topped even the ones they had enjoyed at the feast before the Trials. And the crowning piece, which four muscled young men bore out on a polished wood platter, was a web of fine-spun, sugary filament tangled over and all around a nest of succulent fruits of all types. The unprecedented amount of sweetcrystal brought in by the candidates, they heard whispered, had enabled this once-in-a-generation confection.
Juniper wondered if, even now, someone was storing up mental images of this memorable delight, for later depiction on the Memory Wall. After all, what better to capture for posterity than your finest desserts?
On the other side of the group, Leena made the rounds to several women in turn until she located the creator of the sugary masterpiece, where she began exclaiming, nodding, and writing furious notes on a scrap of parchment. Erick took a crystalline lamp and a sheaf of empty pages and set off for the Memory Wall with a history-lover’s gleam in his eye; he’d probably have to be pried loose when it came time to leave. Tippy had found a cluster of Littles about her size and started up a game of honey-pots, the whole group of them rolling in frenzied turns across the quaggy ground. Even Cyril seemed to have a found a like-minded companion, making a stiff sort of conversation with Tania at the far edge of the fire pit.
Even across the never-changing throb of worry for her father and Torr, and the knowledge that all her plans would now need to be refigured, Juniper felt a deep satisfaction at this blending of her two peoples, her two worlds. If only all of life could see such resolution!
Finally, Juniper spread the word that they would soon head back to the Basin. It would be a challenging hike back in the darkness, but the snow had stopped. The moon overhead was bright and full as a rounded cheese. Now that this Anju chapter was closed, Juniper wanted—needed—to be gone. She had an invasion to plan—a very small invasion, now that they were back to settlers only. But it would have to do.
She would figure out a way to get her people back to Torr and save her father. She would. This was the most important thing in her entire world right now. Before they left, though, there was someone she needed to talk to
.
She found her sitting at the base of a tree, looking out silently over the forest. “Mother Odessa?” said Juniper. She swallowed. “Grandmother?”
The woman looked up, smiling faintly. Juniper thought she looked twice as old as she had that morning.
“I’m sorry I didn’t . . .” Juniper wasn’t entirely sure what she was apologizing for, but she knew she needed to say something. “I know you wanted me to . . .”
“Say no more, child,” said Odessa. “It’s quite clear I was pushing my own plans hard—much too hard. Hindsight is the clearest sight, after all. I only . . .” She sighed. “It would have been good if you could have stayed here with us. With me. For a while, at least.”
“You miss my mother, don’t you?”
“I think—I know I didn’t handle Alaina’s departure well. I was so full of my own righteous anger back then. I could see nothing beyond my role as chief and her searing betrayal. When she left, I pronounced her dead to the Tribe. Forbade anyone to have any contact with her. She sent letters and parcels—so many, over the years! I ordered every one of them destroyed unread. Turned down all requests for a visit. After some time, I began to regret this decision, but how could I go back on the pronouncement I had made before all? Particularly as I was no longer chief, by that point.” The old woman’s shoulders drooped. “Then . . . there you were. And I thought, what a chance it would be! Not quite like having your mother back, but as near to it as I could get.”
Juniper felt her eyes sting. Hindsight indeed!
Odessa squinted at the tree branches, then seemed to make up her mind. “Will you come to my dwelling? Do you have a few minutes to spare?”
“Of course,” said Juniper. She looked back toward the clearing, where the others were still busy mingling. She did want to be on the road soon, but this was important. She might not get another chance.
Princess Juniper of the Anju Page 19
