Leena's Story - The Complete Novellas (A Dance of Dragons Book 4)
Page 10
But she did know one thing.
The door was open, unguarded, and waiting for her.
SEVEN
Leena was free.
Still in her rooms, still in the center of the golden palace, still hours away from safety and true release. But staring at her arms, completely bare aside from two thin black strips at the base of her wrists, Leena was free of the weight that being an Ourthuri princess settled on her shoulders.
The ointment was pure magic.
Running a finger up her arm, Leena marveled at the smooth dry skin below her touch. The balm had dissolved upon contact, untraceable, staining her skin a rich olive tan. Gone were the tattoos that had labeled her all her life. And just like that, escape was closer than ever.
Sealing the jar tight, Leena stuffed it at the base of her satchel and slipped on the ring Mikza had given her long ago. Without the marks of a princess, she felt bold enough to wear the gift, to brand herself in a new way—as a woman in love. And she wished Mikza were alive to kiss her, to see her the way they had always imagined, as his and no one else’s. Yet, Leena knew he was with her, in the cool breeze drifting in from the open balcony, brushing against her cheeks, bringing goose bumps to her bare arms.
Yes, Mikza was with her. Giving her luck. Bringing her just enough strength to make the escape they had planned together all on her own.
Leena slipped into the plain dress she had stolen from her maid not a week ago, in preparation for this day. The material scratched her skin, but she didn’t miss the smooth silks she normally wore—silks worn only by royalty. In the garb of a servant, she would move undiscovered—at least that was what Leena hoped.
Then she took a deep breath.
Faced the door.
And left.
Keeping her head down, Leena tried her best to blend in. Though her feet itched to race down the halls, to run out of the palace and never turn back, she kept her steps steady. One after the other. Slow but not too slow, calm and purposeful, as though she had somewhere to be, something to do, but nothing out of the ordinary. Just another mundane task for the royal family. Another day at work as a servant in the palace, gathering items for her master.
And it worked.
Eyes glided over her, unaware.
As Leena stepped down the front steps of the palace, skin warmed by the heat of the sun, she could hardly breathe, waiting for everything to fall apart, waiting for one person to recognize her, one person to stop her, one person to sound the alarm. Gaze locked on the stones beneath her feet, Leena stepped to the beat of her heart, faster now that the exit to the golden plateau was in sight. If she made it over that bridge, there would be no one to stop her as she marched down into the silver levels, down to the iron merchant streets, farther to the docks, then to freedom.
“Miss?”
Leena wanted to sprint away as the voice called in her direction, but that was what a guilty person would do—not an innocent passerby. Instead, she turned, smiling lightly as she met the eyes of the guard standing watch on the bridge. The golden mail covering his chest nearly blinded her on this cloudless day, imposing as his gaze swept over her figure, and for the first time Leena understood what it was to be looked at as something other than a princess. Fear trickled down her throat as a bead of sweat pooled, trailing slowly down her spine, cool against her skin.
“Yes?” she asked, trying to pull the educated lilt from her voice.
The man blinked as he surveyed her one more time, scanning her face. For a moment, his eyes filled with a sense of recognition, but then it passed as they settled on her arms, bare except for servant stripes. He stared at her tattoos, or her lack thereof, lids narrowing, lifting back to her face. Without makeup, Leena did not look like a princess, but the curves of her face remained the same, familiar under scrutiny.
He shook his head, blinking.
“You may go.”
Leena did not need to be told twice. She took off across the bridge and did not look back. But as her feet passed over the golden path and her gaze filtered down through the spaces in the metal to the rock far below, she couldn’t hold back a small grin.
In Ourthuro, tattoos never lied.
Tattoos were a person’s identity—take them away, and the soul became unmarked, less than human. Even if he thought her a princess, the tattoos told a different story and tattoos were trusted above everything else.
For the first time that day, Leena was at peace. She continued down the mountain, through the silver level sparkling with ornate homes, decadent entrances, silk curtains billowing in the breeze, taking every detail in.
The noble plateau was much like her home. Women walked draped in gauzy fitted dresses and metal veils—here silver and not gold. Their eyes passed over her, labeling Leena as a servant not worth their time. Males and females alike were dripped in jewels, metal belts and pins decorated with diamonds, ankle bracelets that chimed when they walked, spreading music through the air. Their clothes were of the finest materials. And Leena had seen it all before.
But when she stepped over the silver bridge, leaving the nobility behind, her eyes widened and she slowed her steps to enjoy the real Da’astiku for the first time. For years, she had sat on her balcony, looking down over her city, wondering from above what it looked like from below. And now she knew.
This high, even the iron homes carried some elegance—copper window frames, the occasional metallic dome, bronze sculpted tiles along the façade. But the lower she walked, the simpler her city became. Houses more like metal boxes, dull gray and iron, piled atop one another, less beautiful. Streets were more uneven, stones giving way to dirt and sand.
But the people, Leena thought, were the opposite. Whereas the silver level was serene, air filled with soft murmurs and the chink of metal charms, these lower levels felt alive. The air was full of noise and chatter, of life. The same as Leena heard in the carriage weeks earlier, but now her eyes drank the sights in—the common folk dressed the same as she, no metal except for the occasional crude belt to cinch their clothing in. But smiling wide, emotions on display, laughter bubbling on their lips and escaping into the world with no shame. Children running and playing, no strict rules of decorum to keep them in line.
Leena stopped in the middle of the street.
One moment.
That was all she wanted. One moment to remember her city, the true city, before she left it behind. There was no guarantee she would make it to Whylkin, let alone be successful enough to ever return home. And seeing her people now, a tear came to her eye—a longing to slip through the vendor stalls, to join them, to live amongst them as one of them, if only for a little while.
But just as the desire filled her heart, another sound snaked through the streets, coiling around her, invisible chains.
The bells.
The alarm.
Leena recognized the noise. And this time, there was no doubt that it was meant for her.
Her bodyguards had gifted her with a window of escape, but that didn’t mean they would also gift her with endless time. And they hadn’t. Desperation filled her body, and Leena threw caution to the wind, lifting her skirts to run as swiftly as her legs would carry her.
Whereas weeks before, the streets of Da’astiku were regularly patrolled by palace guards and soldiers, with the imminent war, those levels of security had been worn thin. No one manned the bridges between levels, no one waited there to cut off her path, and Leena made it freely to the docks without harm.
Once she got there, however, gold swarmed her sight.
It was everywhere.
The warships overflowed with soldiers. Men in official uniform walked every inch of the docks, moving supplies, talking with each other, preparing the ships. And there was not another woman in sight.
Suddenly all eyes were on her.
And as the ringing of bells filtered down, overtaking the churning waves of the sea, those eyes filled with suspicion. And then cloth snapped above her head, cracking loud as a whip
, signaling the end.
Heart rapidly sinking, Leena looked up to see the black flag blowing in the breeze. Even a princess knew what that meant—the dock was closed. No ships in. No ships out.
No escape.
And yet, movement caught her eye deep in the distance. A ship near the end of the dock had just lowered it sails, preparing to leave—a merchant vessel, clearly out of place against this backdrop of war.
But then her vision retreated, scanning the mass of people between her and her way out, nerves coiling tight. There was no way she could possibly make it to that ship. Not in time. Not past so many soldiers now on the alert. Not before being caught.
A hand gripped her arm, spinning her.
Leena met the man’s eyes, shaking her head. He was a palace guard. One she had seen before, one she recognized—one undoubtedly sent to bring her home.
His hold tightened. “Princess?”
Leena didn’t wait to hear more. Reacting instinctually, she kicked, shocking the guard with the blow, and he let go. She ran, pushing around people, trying to squeeze through seams in the crowd, desperately making for the end of the dock and the one ship that might grant her passage.
But the next instant, a shout carried to her ears.
“The princess! Seize her!”
Hands found her clothes, tearing them. Her hair, pulling it. Her bag, ripping it.
Leena struggled, fought.
Then hands found her skin. More fingers than she could ever pry loose, but she tried, screaming and shouting, kicking.
“Enough!” a man yelled.
The soldiers securing her released their grips, forming a circle around her body, an unbroken ring of gold.
The guard that had recognized her stepped through the pack. “It’s over, Princess. Please come with me. I do not want to harm you, but under the king’s orders, I will.”
Leena swallowed, lips trembling, hands shaking. Fury mounted below her skin—at being so close only to have her chances stripped away. She met the man’s gaze with defiance, eyes searching the circle around her for a break, a hole, a way out. Thinking of the Whylkin prince she helped save, Leena was determined to keep fighting with every ounce of strength she had. These soldiers would have to kill her, to knock her out and drag her unconscious body back to her father. Because one thing was certain—Leena was far past going willingly back to her cage.
And then she saw it.
Blue.
Just behind her, visible through a large gap between the bodies of two soldiers, was the sea.
Taking a deep breath, Leena let her shoulders fall and bowed her head. When the men around her shifted their weight, relaxing at the sign of their princess giving in, she jumped—one large leap that sent her out beyond the reach of their hands, beyond solid land, floating for a moment before dropping heavily down.
The water embraced her.
Leena swam.
Crashes boomed from above, but Leena did not stop to look at the soldiers jumping in after her. Fingers slid around her calf, but Leena kicked, dislodging them, pulling herself down continually, deeper than she had ever gone before. Arms reaching, legs pumping, whole body undulating to make her move faster.
Then Leena’s fingers brushed the bottom.
It was not tile, but sand. Soft below her fingers. Moving up in a pouf of dust as she flipped herself, lying backward, peering through the shimmering aqua laced with rippling strands of the sun.
From here, the world looked upside down. Green-tinted wood floated in ovular shapes above her head, surrounded in shadow and splash, massive ships much less menacing from below. A long shadowy line blocking out the sun was all she saw of the dock, so terrifying only moments ago. Evenly shaped poles stretched from the shadow, below the water and down to meet her at the bottom of the world.
Looking from side to side, Leena smiled.
The walls were gone.
This was no small plunge pool in a palace—this was wild. The ocean teemed with life. Salt burned her throat. Fish swam above her head. The sand moved with the current, swaying to the thunder rolling in her ears as waves broke on wood above her head. The water tasted richer, fuller—it crashed and fought, buzzed with energy.
Leena reached for her bag, digging her fingers through the floating jewels, feeling for papers that she hoped would survive this plunge, wrapping her fist around the rattle—thinking of her brother, of the others she hoped to save before her father’s fist clenched too tight.
And then she swam.
Down the long corridor of ships until she reached the end. The merchant ship was far easier to reach below the water than above, in her territory, her domain. Within minutes, her fingers wrapped around a scratchy rope, and she followed it down, pulling on the cord, until she spotted the anchor partially buried in the sand. Leena hugged the giant hook to her chest and propped her feet on its base—waiting.
Soon enough, the black flag would lower and the dock would reopen.
Soon enough, this anchor would raise, bringing her to the ship she hoped might bring her to a new life.
Up at the surface, Leena could still make out soldiers diving deep below the water, pausing for a moment before surging up for breath. They were searching for a body they would never find.
Soon enough, Princess Leenaka would cease to exist.
Dead.
Drowned.
That’s what the people would think. What her father would think.
Let them.
Leena turned so she faced the other direction—no longer staring at her past, but out into the endless blue, toward her future.
Toward Whylkin.
###
THE
BRONZE
KNIGHT
A Dance of Dragons #2.5
By Kaitlyn Davis
DESCRIPTION
From bestselling author Kaitlyn Davis comes the third companion novella to the thrilling A Dance of Dragons series—perfect for fans of Throne of Glass, Graceling, and Game of Thrones!
Princess Leena arrives in Rayfort with one thought on her mind—getting the information that might stop her father's armies to Prince Whylrhen as soon as possible. But once there, she quickly realizes the situation is far more dire than she ever anticipated. Abandoned by Jinji and Rhen who were sent away by the king regent, Leena is left alone with an impossible decision to make. Stay in Rayfort and fight with the rest of the doomed city. Or risk a life on the run for the chance of survival.
Taking place parallel to the events in THE SPIRIT HEIR, read Leena's side of the story as she takes fate into her own hands while the city of Rayfort crumbles around her.
ONE
For the twelfth morning in a row, Leena woke with the unmistakable urge to vomit. Slowly peeling her eyes open, she glanced from side to side, knowing that the feeling might subside if she just didn’t move. If she just waited it out. So, she completed her morning ritual—counting the wooden slabs on the walls around her. Fifteen up on the left. Twenty-five across the ceiling. Fourteen down on the right.
Leena closed her eyes, sighing, shaking her head just barely.
Fourteen. Why?
Twelve days on this ship, twelve days locked away in the first mate’s cabin, twelve days of seasickness, twelve days of traveling away from her homeland, and still, that little bit of asymmetry bothered her more than anything else. If there were fifteen wooden boards on the left wall, why weren’t there also fifteen on the right? Why fourteen? Why?
And just like that, the nausea subsided a little. But Leena knew better than to trust that slight sense of ease, because many a morning she had stood too soon, only to run to the nearest bucket and empty her stomach. Instead, she focused her gaze on the small circular window to her left, and the white stone wall waiting just out of reach.
Rayfort.
They had arrived almost two days ago. An eternity to Leena as she sat in this room, unable to leave the ship without the captain’s permission, something that was starting to seem impossible.
For once, King Razzaq’s cruelty had worked to her advantage.
Leena sighed, pushing away the frustration that came with thinking of her homeland and her situation. Instead, she stood and got dressed, fighting the woozy feeling tightening her insides just long enough to prepare for the day ahead. Not that anything would change. But still, she walked to the window, opened it to let the breeze in, and turned her eyes to the docks, searching for the captain to return, as he promised he would—with the Whylkin King by his side. Until that happened, she was stuck in this room, locked in by a key the captain carried around his neck.
But as soon as her eyes took in the scene outside, Leena gasped.
The ships were gone.
Almost all of them, vanished.
Leena blinked, sticking her head through the opening, glancing at the empty rows of piers. The warships that had been surrounding her a day before were all gone. Closing her eyes tight, she winced.
The Whylkin princes were falling right into her father’s trap. A trap she should have been able to warn them about two days ago, before they sent their ships to their doom. Why must she always be one step behind? Farther away from her father than she had ever been before, and he was still controlling her, still beating her, still winning. Cursing, she slapped the wooden wall, biting back the pain of the sting, welcoming it in a way.