by R. C. Lewis
“Could I ask, Theo, why did you join the Golden Sword?”
“Oh, you don’t want to hear a silly story like that one, Princess.”
“Actually, I do. Unless it’s too personal.”
With just the light coming off the console, I could still see a slight blush. “I remember your mother, you see. Queen Alaina. She visited my school and talked about the citizens of Windsong, the things she felt we stood for…honesty, hard work, trust. The same things my parents always taught me. She had such a presence, a way of making you believe things were possible if she said they were.” He caught himself. “Forgive me, Princess. It’s not my place to speak of her.”
“No, please, go on.”
It took him a moment, but he continued. “That day she visited, I decided I wanted to join the Midnight Blade, to protect her and fight for what she believed in. She died not long after that, and I swear, you could see the whole planet grow darker as we mourned her. Then with the betrayals of the Exiles…I decided to join the Golden Sword instead, help your father bring peace back to this world and to keep your mother’s memory. So that’s why.”
I wanted to say something kind or comforting, something to let him know my mother would have been happy to have him in her guard. The words refused to come.
Words like that didn’t live inside me.
Instead, all I could identify was rage. This was a good man, who believed in doing the right thing, and my father had him completely duped. For several minutes, I considered telling him the truth. Maybe Dane and I could use an ally.
Not yet. I’d just met him—not nearly enough time to trust him with what we were doing. My first impressions could be off…though they usually weren’t. I’d known Petey wouldn’t wrong me almost as soon as I met him. I’d definitely been right about Tobias.
And Dane…My impressions had changed several times since I pulled him from the shuttle and thought he was terrifying. Maybe I’d managed to be both right and wrong on that one.
Theo would have to stay in the dark for a while yet. But if we overthrew my father, the existing members of the Golden Sword would have the option to serve the new leader. Men like Theo would serve well.
One more thing to do before I got myself killed: make sure Theo got the chance to fulfill the dream my mother inspired, improving the world rather than serving a tyrant.
Something touched the back of my hand, and I glanced down. Dane. I wondered how long he’d been awake. Given the way he looked at me in the dim light of the cabin, long enough to know I was thinking about my mother.
I turned my hand to let him take it in his, and a tightness clenched at my throat. For a few moments, I indulged in the thought that my whole universe was nothing more than Dane holding my hand.
That wasn’t true, though. Theo could turn and notice. I pulled my hand back and curled up on my seat to get some sleep.
Not a good time to get emotional, Essie.
Plenty of time to cry when I’m dead.
TRAVELING THROUGH THE provinces of Windsong proved bittersweet. I’d nearly forgotten the beauty of my home planet. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to remember. After years of Thanda’s dim, dingy grays and bleak landscapes, the color and variety kept my eyes locked on the windows. Mountains, valleys, plains…Windsong had everything. We passed near the whistling canyons, though not close enough to hear the music the wind made through the stone formations.
Theo offered to detour and stop briefly. I told him my business in the war zone was too important, and suggested he put the transport on autopilot so he could get some sleep.
Hours more came and went, until even machine code and animated logic puzzles couldn’t keep the deadening grip of boredom off my brain. Dane and I didn’t dare say anything important while we could be overheard, and small talk only went so far with a princess and two guards, one of whom was the clandestine prince of the other’s supposed mortal enemy.
Then I noticed the view changing, even in the dark. The lights were dimmer here. More sparse.
My bones chilled with the phantom memory of Thanda and the mining settlements. The lights were the same. Cheap and barely sufficient. Theo answered the question before I asked.
“We’re crossing into the outlands, Princess. Sir, if you would keep an extra eye on the tactical scanners. We’re steering well clear of the known Exile encampments, but I don’t want any surprises just the same.”
Exiles wouldn’t be a problem, but Theo didn’t know that, so we had to keep up the act. The silence in the transport over the last few hours of the journey was anything but boring. Dane resolutely watched his scanners and everything else he could see. I asked Theo for schematics of the transport so I could get familiar with its inner workings, in case we suffered damage in an attack that wouldn’t happen.
All an act, yet I still managed to get most of the schematics memorized. It was something to do. No real Exiles hid in the outlands waiting to ambush us. The only enemy was my father’s army of imposters. We weren’t in any real danger.
As the sun peeked up again over a range of mountains, I saw just how real it was for everyone else.
Weapons. Big ones, and lots of them.
I didn’t know much about weapons, not the way I knew about drones and computer codes. The palace had nothing more advanced than a blade, and Thanda’s weapon of choice was a solid fist. The most I knew about guns was that I didn’t like Tobias pointing one at me. The weapons here were levels beyond that. Devices that looked cannonlike sat at regular intervals around the settlement alongside towers bristling with antenna arrays.
Our destination lay in a wide valley that must have once been farmland. A cluster of buildings was nestled along the bank of a river. Most were prefabricated, bare and functional, like the shacks on Thanda, but a few buildings stood out as predating the “war.” A farmhouse complete with expansive porch and old-fashioned shutters on the windows sat at the center. A few shacks away, a massive barn dwarfed the smaller structures around it, its green paint peeling and faded.
A light on Theo’s console blinked and beeped twice. “That’s just the perimeter guard acknowledging that we’re friendly, Princess,” he explained.
He piloted us smoothly between the cannons and towers, approaching the buildings. I spotted men in faded uniforms going from one to another, some giving orders, others taking them. One waved us toward the barn, with the door already opening to allow the transport inside.
“Here we are, Princess. Fort Saddlewood. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep your wits while we’re here.”
No, he didn’t, but I appreciated the sentiment.
I checked that I had the gear I wanted—mostly a scanner and a slate—and exited the transport. Three soldiers stood waiting and immediately bowed.
“Princess Snow, I’m Larsen, fort captain,” said the one in the center, a man old enough to have hair peppered with gray, but young enough to handle himself in a Thandan bar. “It’s an honor to receive your visit.”
Try to look regal, Essie. “No, it’s my honor, Captain.”
“The message from Command didn’t say much, Your Highness. Is there anything particular you want to see?”
“Only everything. The whole operation and anything you can tell me about it. I’m here to find a way to make some real progress in this war, see if we can end it before our grandchildren are in your position.”
It sounded like a good line, at least in my head. The captain must have thought so, too, because he snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am—er, Your Highness. My apologies.”
“Ma’am is fine.” Anything’s better than my not-so-“Highness.”
We began the tour with the captain’s command post, Dane and Theo keeping in step behind me. A wall-size screen displayed a map of the outlands, with certain areas glowing red. Areas controlled by the pseudo-Exiles. Too many of them, and too large. Green icons indicated militia bases like Saddlewood, and smaller blue icons represented troop encampments.
One look and I
knew what the next move should be from either side. It was just like a game of Taktik. I could see the pawns, see the strategies. It was still all a game to my father, but even knowing it was fake, a piece of the picture didn’t make sense. It was a piece too obvious for the militia to miss.
“Captain, what do you think the Exiles’ goal is? They push deeper into the outlands when they could put pressure on the provinces here and here.”
“I don’t claim to understand them. Maybe they want a strong foothold here before braving the tighter defenses at the border. Or maybe they think the prisoners are being held somewhere out here. Though if they were, I can’t believe they wouldn’t have found them in eight years now.”
Finally! “Prisoners?” I prompted.
Larsen shifted uncomfortably but didn’t avoid the question. “Ah, didn’t realize you didn’t know, ma’am. When you were taken, the Exiles in the Royal City launched the first strike. Most were captured.”
I nodded in what I hoped was a thoughtful way. Inside, I was ready to turn around and make the day-long journey back to the palace with the excuse I needed to ask about the prisoners. Dane had to feel the same way, far more than I did. We still needed to finish the tour, though. Hopefully we’d get more information, making the delay worthwhile.
We left the command post, and Larsen led the way past several shacks, mostly used for storage, toward the largest building there.
“We’re a little different from the other forts, as we receive many of the injured here,” he said. “Originally that was because we were back far enough from the front lines, though as you saw on the map, that’s not the case anymore. But our perimeter defenses have held, and we have some good medics. Transporting the injured out of the war zone is nearly impossible.”
But we’d gotten into the war zone easily enough. How much harder could it be to get out? “Why is that?” I asked.
“Those bastard Exiles target medical transports in particular. Pardon my language, ma’am.”
Dane’s sharp intake of breath echoed in my ears. Hopefully the others took it as horror that anyone could be so cold rather than fury at my father.
We walked into the large building, which functioned as the infirmary.
I wanted to turn and run, but Dane and Theo blocked me in.
Rows of cots ran the length of the building, every one of them occupied. Based on the noise coming down the stairway to our right, the second level had plenty of patients as well. The noises…soft moaning, an occasional cry of pain. And no wonder. From where I stood, I saw blood-soaked bandages, burnt flesh, and wrapped stumps where limbs should have been. Some turned to look at us, but most were too consumed by their misery. The air choked me with a smell I’d never experienced, cheap antiseptic mingling with wounds that festered despite the medics’ best efforts. Open windows allowed a hint of a fresh breeze. It didn’t help that much.
Hospitals like those in the Royal City had the tech and resources to treat all of these and more, freeing them of pain, repairing the damage quickly and efficiently. But Father kept the hospitals out of reach. He didn’t think these soldiers were worth it. They were just the pawns.
Like Dane’s mother. He’d said she died when he was born. No one died in childbirth anymore, not on Windsong. Not without some kind of willful neglect.
My stomach roiled. All those years on Thanda, I’d thought I understood my father’s monstrosity. That understanding deepened when the Candarans told me they weren’t involved in the war at all. Father put his own rule above everything and everyone—even his own people. Confronted with these soldiers, dead and dying due to Father’s actions, it reached a new level of reality for me.
But the same man had told me bedtime stories. Had shed tears when he told me my mother was dead. Had been heartbroken when I was missing and genuinely happy when I returned.
Had done other things.
It wouldn’t come together. The pieces jammed into spaces where they didn’t fit.
Collect data now, Essie. Process later.
I cleared my throat. “Captain, I don’t want to get in the medics’ way. Could we see some of your weapons stores?”
“Of course, Princess.”
I wanted to drink the fresh air once we were outside, but I restrained myself to more controlled breaths. We didn’t go far, just to one of the storage shacks next to the infirmary. Larsen slid open a crate and removed a gun.
“This is our standard field rifle. Range of half a link, variable charge. Steady and reliable, but the Exiles’ weapons are a bit better. I’ve often wondered if they’re getting contraband from the brains over on Garam. I haven’t any proof, of course, ma’am.”
Maybe he had proof of something else. I turned and gave Dane a slight nod.
“May I, Captain?” he said. Larsen handed him the rifle, which he quickly broke down, laying out the components on another crate.
I stepped closer and looked it over, glad for a puzzle to focus on. I didn’t know much about weapons, but when I saw the guts of a thing, I could figure it. Charge generator, polarizer, conduits, contact relays…Something was off. The scanner from my pocket confirmed it, and I saved the scan file to my slate. With that configuration, the gun would fire bolts that looked pretty good, but didn’t do much more than give the target an irritating shock.
It was all true. Nothing but theatrics on the “Exile” side, but the Windsong militia soldiers didn’t know that. The injuries, the deaths on their own side, they were all too real.
My mind clicked through the information, stubbornly trying to make it compute, refusing to wait any longer. The effort distracted me, turning the rest of our tour into a meaningless blur.
When I surfaced, the captain said he had duties to return to and left us in Theo’s care to decide what else we wanted to do.
“You can see, Princess, they do the best they can here,” the guard said. “It’s the same or worse all across the outlands. A bad situation all around.”
“War usually is,” I murmured. “Theo, would you mind checking in with the medics? Get a list of supplies and tech they need. If we can’t get the injured to the hospitals, we should at least get these infirmaries as close to hospital-quality as we can.”
“Certainly, Princess.”
It was a task that needed doing, but all I really wanted was to get Theo out of the way so I could talk to Dane. The guard left for the infirmary, and I set off in a different direction toward the near edge of the base. Past the shacks with soldiers carrying out their tasks, out into the wild fields overgrown with brush and young trees. My sleeve snagged on a branch, scraping the skin underneath, but I just tugged it free and kept going. Once I knew no one could hear us, I turned to Dane and let the words burst out.
“It doesn’t make any sense!”
He stepped back, startled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean none of this adds up. Why is my father carrying on with this now that I’m back, now that it’s acknowledged that Exiles didn’t take me? Why does he insist on convincing this whole planet we’re at war with you?”
“Do you know anything about your own history?”
Only what the tutors had told me. Being on Thanda had been all about running away from the past. I said nothing, but it was answer enough for Dane.
“Kip told me a few things. It’s because Matthias’s power was slipping, Essie. He’s never been able to keep hold of the kingdom like your grandfather could. He doesn’t know how, not like a real king. Unrest and uprisings plagued his reign from the beginning. He brought in Olivia as royal theurgist, and that helped for a while, but the people didn’t actually like her that much. So he married your mother, and the kingdom was more stable than it had ever been during his rule. When she died, he almost lost the throne.”
I flinched. After Mother died, after the wedding to Olivia…that was when everything changed.
Dane stepped a little closer, but his eyes held sympathy, not threats. “Then you disappeared, and he took the chance to create
a convenient enemy out of people he’s already afraid of. Afraid because if we Transition, we can understand anyone from the inside. Afraid because there’s no keeping secrets from us. That’s what Transitioning is, Essie; it’s about understanding people, and to someone like your father, that’s worse than the fear of possession or mind-control. He chose the kind of leader he’d be years ago, and it was the wrong choice.”
I knew what he wasn’t saying. I was the right choice. “He’s my father. What if you and Kip are wrong? What if there’s more of him than my mother in me?”
“We’re not wrong.”
He reached for my hand. I wanted to let him take it, but I pulled away. “Don’t.”
“No one’s going to see.”
No one will see, no one will know, it’ll be our secret.…
“I said, don’t.”
The edge in my voice sent him back a step. “Essie, I’m sorry, I—”
“I had a choice, too, Dane,” I cut in. “Fight for the right to live quietly on Candara with you or come to Windsong, where the odds say I won’t survive the year, but hopefully I’ll take my father and Olivia down with me. My choice wasn’t supposed to include you coming along and getting killed, too, and when I’m probably going to die anyway, you shouldn’t waste your feelings on me.”
Dane shook his head. “You’re brilliant, Essie, but you’re still dim on a few things. Feelings can’t be wasted. Knowing they’re real for however long they last makes them worth having.”
Something wrenched inside me. “You’re wrong. Feelings can be real without being worth anything at all.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because somewhere inside me is the little girl who loved her father, and in his twisted black heart, he does love me. After all he’s done, what’s that worth?”
Dane had no answer, and neither did I. His eyes said he wanted to blank it out for me, make it so it had never happened, but we both knew that was impossible.
The silence hung, and in the end, neither of us got a chance to break it.
