The Captive Twin (Principality Book 2)

by R. J. Francis

  The moon, nearly full, shone down through a gap in the clouds, bathing everything in a gorgeous blue light. “It’s been snowing on and off all day,” Nastasha explained.

  As they walked, Elaina began to notice areas where major clashes had taken place. Patches of trees were still splintered and smoldering. Deep wheel tracks crisscrossed the snow and led to burned-out rocket launchers and wagons. She even saw body parts and corpses here and there. Not much blood, though. Elaina figured the warm blood must have sunk into the snow.

  Soon they arrived at the field hospital, which was comprised of five white tents, crates full of supplies, a half-dozen medics, a handful of assistants, and another dozen soldiers who hid in the trees with eyes on the perimeter. A few battery-powered medical devices purred quietly, the red, blue and green of their arcane blinking lights reflecting off the snow. Nastasha brought Elaina into the largest tent, where soldiers were laid out in a row for healing. “Here you are,” Nastasha said. “Please see what you can do.”

  Elaina got to work, making an instant friend of the first man in the queue. She tried not to let the distant shouts, the rat-a-tat-tat crackles, and the surprise booms distract her from her important work. There was nothing she could do for the dead soldiers, but she healed the gravely wounded one by one, getting a glimpse into the spirit of each patient, sustaining them for the fight ahead, and, without setting out to do so, winning their loyalty.

  She got through the first batch of wounded quickly, and then helped the medics slide the dead ones from the tent on blankets. On one of her trips out, she noticed a Destaurian soldier slumped in the brush nearby. The young man had both his arms lopped off at the elbows, but she saw that he was shaking and still alive. “Bring that man to me,” Elaina said to one of the supervising Arran soldiers, a corporal named Deni.

  Corporal Deni trudged over, grabbed the Destaurian by the hair, and yanked him out of the bushes onto the snow.

  “He’s dead.”

  “No, he’s not,” Elaina said. “Bring him here. Carry him—don’t pull him like that.”

  Deni grasped the broken man by the back of his collar, dragged him over the snow, and tossed him in front of Elaina like a sack of rubbish.

  Elaina glared at Deni for treating the man so roughly. She knelt and laid her hands on the enemy. Patches of the woods began to glow. Space rippled and blurred, and the man’s blood, skin, and two forearms with hands attached maneuvered through the air around the awestruck guards and soldiers. Once all of the man’s blood had rushed in through his arm stumps, his bones, muscles, and skin stretched and bonded into their pre-trauma state.

  The man looked up into Princess Elaina’s eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Are…are you who I think you are?”

  “Quiet,” Elaina said, thinking quickly. “The Arrans must not know who you think I am.”

  Corporal Deni bit his lip, trying to contain his disdain for what Elaina had done.

  “This man is your prisoner now,” Elaina told Deni. Nastasha had come up to see what the commotion was about.

  Deni pleaded with Nastasha. “This is madness,” he told her. “This worm shouldn’t be allowed to live. He killed three of our own.”

  “That was his commission,” Elaina said.

  “He needs to die,” Deni said.

  “Enough, Corporal,” Nastasha snapped. “Have this Destaurian bound and brought to the detention area.”

  One of the privates near the corporal removed some flexible restraints from his pocket, prepared to take the prisoner into custody. “No,” Deni said, grabbing the restraints, “I’ll take him myself.” Deni knelt down and tied the man’s hands. Elaina sat the man up. “Do exactly as you are told,” she said. The man nodded eagerly.

  Deni helped the enemy soldier to stand, and marched him off toward the north.

  Nastasha’s stomach sank as Deni’s pace slowed. Before she could shout out, the deed was done. Deni twisted his sword in his captive’s back, and let the man slide forward onto the snow. The corporal punctuated his act of treason with a wad of spit.

  Elaina had seen, too, and she was the first to take off after the mutinous corporal, who bolted into the trees to the north. Nastasha wasn’t far behind, and neither were Elaina’s guards, who were loath to have their most valuable charge darting off. Using Makias’s trick, Elaina ripped out the snow beneath Deni’s feet and sent him down hard face first into a log. Shaking off the impact, he flipped over onto his back to face his fate.

  Elaina pounced on him, clenching his sword arm painfully with her farmer’s grip. He dropped his weapon and attempted to kick her off, but she was quick to manipulate a band of snow around his neck, compressing it so tightly that it turned to ice. He stopped resisting and begged for air. His face reddened.

  “Arrest the corporal,” Nastasha shouted to the guards, and they moved in.

  Elaina kept her knee pressed into Deni’s gut, and her fiery eyes fixed on his.

  “Don’t kill him, Elaina,” Nastasha pleaded. “We shall make sure he pays.”

  “I won’t kill him,” Elaina said. His icy collar shattered. She got up and let the guards make the arrest. “He’ll live with his mistake.” Fuming, Elaina ran back over to the fallen Destaurian and patched up the hole in his body, but his time in the world of the living was over.

  The next morning, Nastasha woke Jaimin. “Get up,” she said, mussing his hair. “You’ve already missed breakfast, but I saved you some.” She handed him a metal can with a spoon in it. He couldn’t tell what the food in the can was.

  “I slept in that long?”

  “Yup,” she said. Nastasha looked like she’d cleaned up and gotten rest, by the looks of her tidy clothes, clean but slightly sunburnt skin, and freshly washed golden hair spilling from the hood of her puffy down jacket. “I insisted that no one disturb you. But now you’re taking advantage of my generosity.”

  “How is Elaina?” he asked.

  “She’s been working all night saving lives. The hard part is getting the injured to her from wherever they fall. She won’t eat, won’t sleep… Somehow this energy that’s flowing through her fingertips is sustaining her. We shall win this war because of her, I know it. Get dressed and I shall take you to her.”

  Jaimin was impressed by how energized and comfortable Nastasha looked. “You seem to be settling into your new role well,” he said.

  “It’s exhausting, and the responsibility is overwhelming,” she told him. “But it very much suits me, I think. Lately there’s been little time to think.”

  “I’m so proud of you,” Jaimin said. “Finally everyone can see and appreciate how brilliant you are.”

  She was touched by this—he felt it. He also sensed that she was exhilarated by her new power and authority, and by the chance to make a positive impact, but at the same time she feared her strength was fragile: everything could come crashing down with one bad decision. “I just need to keep trusting in my own judgment,” she said.

  “And I believe you can.”

  “Thanks, Jaimin. Look, I’ve set out some armor for you. If you can’t figure out how to put it on, just wait for me. I shall be back in ten minutes.” She left.

  He glanced at the full plate armor she had laid out for him on the floor. There were over a dozen pieces to it, and there was no way he was going to figure out how it all went on. He’d be horribly embarrassed if she came back and he had it on wrong. So he cleaned up, donned new underclothes, tasted a bit of the mystery leftovers from breakfast, and when Nastasha returned dressed in her own chain mail, he had her help him suit up.

  She led Jaimin out onto the snow. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. The air smelled of burning wood. “You’re mother is nearby, actually,” she told him. “I shall leave you with Elaina, and then I need to meet up with the queen.”

  The field hospital had been packed up from its initial location and was now set up further south. Elaina was there, awaiting new patients, and Jaimin noticed that her hair had grown stil
l longer by at least a hand’s width—maybe two. After wiping blood from her hands with a rag, Elaina greeted Jaimin with her typical passionate hug and kiss. The hug wasn’t quite the same with their thick armor clanking together, but the kiss was divine. Nastasha left quickly.

  “How are you?” Jaimin asked Elaina. He presumed that the horrific injuries she was witnessing, and the suffering and fear of her patients had to be taking a toll on her. She wasn’t physically wearing out from healing others, but how was she faring emotionally?

  “Lots of blood. Lots of pain,” she said.

  “That’s them. What about you?”

  “I’m excited that I’m able to help.”

  “Why don’t you take a break? I’ll send for some food. I didn’t have much to eat today, and…”

  “But more patients will arrive soon. I really don’t need a break.”

  “Just take a minute,” Jaimin said. “Take your mind off the blood and pain. All this suffering has to be getting to you.”

  “You know, Jem, it’s not the suffering itself that’s getting to me. It’s why I’m seeing it. The Destaurians believe what they’re doing is right. They are wonderful, amazing people; they’ve just been convinced of a lie. I just want to thump them on the head and say, ‘Wake up, you’re being used!’ But my voice can’t reach all of them. Just the few that are brought to me for healing.”

  “It’s too risky to have you any closer to the front,” he said.

  “I know, I know.”

  “Anything else from your sister?”

  “No, but I sense she’s still struggling with the truth. Look, how about we just take a break over here?” Elaina fetched a thick blanket and unrolled it onto the snow, and she and Jaimin lay on it, side by side, holding hands, staring up at the bright blue sky, listening to the muffled booms of battle in the distance as guards stood watch.

  “I do wish I knew how to mend properly so I could do something for all of them, not just those about to die,” Elaina said.

  I’ll give you a lesson. Jaimin said in his mind.

  Right now?

  Yes, right now.

  Elaina was certainly up for this. It sounded thrilling!

  Through Jaimin’s hand, her consciousness entered his body, and with his mind he gave her a guided tour. His primary organs, muscles, bones—he explained what they were called and how they worked. For Elaina, as brilliant, curious and technically-minded as she was, the experience was phenomenal. She got to see all of him, and she teased that she was happy she finally got to see what was under his clothes, and it appeared to be all in working order. They lost all sense of time, and lost track of what was happening outside their little tour, until they sensed someone they loved was upset…

  “What in the world are you doing?” they heard Nastasha shout, and they opened their eyes. Their hearts were pounding as if startled out of a sound sleep. Nastasha, General Valeriy, and Queen Alethea were standing over them.

  “Just…a little lesson on mending,” Jaimin said.

  “Whoa,” Elaina said. “Everything’s spinning!” She tried to sit up but had to lie back down.

  “What have you done to her, Jaimin?” Nastasha asked. “That really wasn’t a good idea. We have patients on the way.”

  Jaimin apologized, and stood and embraced his mother. “Well done, dear,” Queen Alethea told him. “I’m impressed with your efforts while I’ve been away.”

  “And I’m so glad to see you safe, mother,” Jaimin said. “I heard you sank two enemy ships!”

  “I like to think they sank themselves…” Alethea said.

  Nastasha knelt to help Elaina, who was fighting the weight of her armor, trying to sit up again. “Still dizzy?” Nastasha asked her, while flashing Jaimin a scowl. “Hopefully when your next patient arrives the light will cure whatever mess Jaimin’s got you tangled up in.”

  “Maybe,” she said, still half asleep. “Wow, that was unbelievable. Nastasha, if you could see what I just saw…”

  “Well…I can’t.” Nastasha said, curtly.

  “My dears, our final assault on the quarry is beginning,” Alethea said. “Jaimin, come back with me to the caves. There are plans to be made. Elaina, my sister, I’m afraid you’re going to have a busy afternoon.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  T he “west wing” of the Arran castle, at four stories high, was the tallest building within the fortified complex. It contained the living quarters of the royal family. The Destaurians found the lips and ledges of its roof an ideal site for their communications apparatus: towering antennae, parabolic dishes, and boxy power cubes.

  General Lazlo had appropriated the royal master suite as his command center. King Julian’s body had been removed, the vomit of the poisoned queen and princess had been scrubbed away, and several broken windows were now boarded up.

  After directing his men to open a channel to King Radovan, Lazlo carried his comms pack onto the balcony, where he would have some privacy. Shivering, he brushed the brown, breeze-blown curls from his forehead and slid his headset into place.

  “Your Highness,” Lazlo said, “We’re now under attack from the land and sea. Arrans, Audicians, some of the islanders—just as we expected. We’ve found one of their caves, but most of their army must have been hidden further north.”

  “You must not fail me as Seir did,” said King Radovan. The immense distance the signal traversed caused his voice to crackle and pop. “Wipe them all out.”

  “The Arrans have some advantages we didn’t anticipate.”

  “Go on…”

  “Swords impossibly sharp,” Lazlo reported. “There’s blue on the edges; it’s got to be the work of a master mender. And there’s a rumor of fallen soldiers being seen again at the front in perfect health—someone is restoring them.”

  “Get rid of those islanders at any cost. They are the prize.”

  “We’re losing men more quickly than I anticipated.”

  “That doesn’t reflect well on your ability to anticipate, Lazlo. Why did I make you a general?”

  “Because my brother told you to.”

  “I’m so relieved it wasn’t poor judgment on my part. How many men have you squandered so far?” Radovan asked.

  “Nearly seven hundred have fallen.”

  “Then you have plenty left. Next time you contact me, I expect to hear that the islanders have been eliminated. Every one. I will not tolerate failure.”

  “When will my support arrive?” Lazlo asked.

  “When will I hear the islanders are dead?”

  “Damn, you, Radovan! Where’s my brother? Is he with you?”

  “You have a war to get back to. I assure you, your brother and I are in complete accord when it comes to what you should be doing at this moment. And it’s not bickering with me. Get going.”

  General Lazlo flicked off his communicator and stormed inside.

  Back in Destauria, a man’s voice from the shadows said: “You should show at least some effort to help the man.”

  “I’ll dispatch a messenger to Admiral Stack,” Radovan said.

  “A messenger? Shouldn’t you just use the communicator?”

  Radovan was silent.

  “Lazlo’s fate has been decided, hasn’t it?” said the man.

  “Indeed it has.”

  As night fell again, Elaina was finding herself with longer breaks between patients—not because fewer Arrans were falling, but because the allies were advancing, and the further the troops got from Elaina, the harder it was to shuttle the wounded to where she was.

  “May we move further south now?” Elaina asked Nastasha.

  “It’s still too hot down there,” Nastasha replied. “But the quarry is almost ours. We shall move the hospital there as soon as we secure it.”

  Elaina knew hundreds were dying on both sides—and she couldn’t get to them to help. She stood up and scanned the forest nervously, and then the cliffs.

  “Do you sense something?” Nastasha asked.


  “I must go back to the caves for a few minutes,” Elaina said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be quick.” Elaina left so fast that her assigned guards almost didn’t notice, but they caught up with her.

  Most of the civilians at Black Tube Caves were trying to rest. A full day had passed since the explosions, and they had worn themselves out tending to the emotional and physical wounds suffered the night before.

  Elaina found that Sylvia still had Aura covered up to her shoulders with a blanket, as if her dead sister were merely asleep. Sylvia looked exhausted. Her bright blue eyes were swollen pink, and her tears seemed to be tapped out. On seeing Elaina, she sat up and reached out to hug the princess. Aura may have died, but Elaina had at least made her body whole, and for that Sylvia was grateful. Aura could now be buried looking like the beautiful girl she was in life.

  Elaina’s embrace started Sylvia’s tears flowing again. Jaimin and Alessa walked up as Elaina unstuck a long, black lock from Sylvia’s sweaty forehead. “I don’t know how to explain this, but…” Elaina whispered.

  “I can explain,” Alessa said. “Aura is calling you, Sylvia. She wants to say goodbye.”

  “What? I don’t understand,” Sylvia said. “Can I go to the spirit world and come back?”

  “Yes,” Alessa said. “Is this something you want?”

  “Oh, very much,” Sylvia said.

  “Elaina will guide you.”

  “I…will?” Elaina said.

  “Sit on the floor facing each other,” Alessa instructed them. Sylvia climbed out of her cot and sat cross-legged to the extent her bandages would allow; Elaina could only kneel because of her armor. Gradually, some of the other court survivors came near, although they didn’t get too close. Jaimin was curious, and he trusted Alessa entirely. He knew she wasn’t going to send Elaina into danger.

  Elaina reached out her hands, and Sylvia took them. “Is it difficult?” Sylvia asked.

  “Not when it’s the will of the divine spirit,” Alessa said. “Are you ready?”