Book of Sacha: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 3)

by Matt Howerter

  Sacha frowned. She had hoped her last visit with the Lady Barrelon and her council of ladies from months ago would be the end of her commitments for that particular event and others like it. Deep down, she had known better.

  Sacha knew all too well that her position would require her to be present at most social events, if not all of them. Marcella’s declaration forced her to face the truth she’d been hiding from. Oh, the reasons had been sound enough, and it was important for her to become an accomplished rider and to practice the art of wielding the Shamonrae. In the face of Marcella’s tongue-in-cheek accusation, though, she could see her actions for what they really were: trading things she could control for things that she could not. Interacting so directly with the people and the nobility as she pretended to be Sloane would pose a tremendous risk, and neither Rouke nor the absent Kesh could be proof against the potential failure.

  Well, no more, Sacha thought. For better or worse, she had to approach the stage and let the chips fall where they would. Resolute, Sacha took Marcella’s hand. “Come on,” she said, leading her cousin into the palace. “You can tell me what must be done.”

  As they made their way up the final few steps to the arched entrance, Marcella cast her gaze upward, where the Rohdaekhann played, and said thoughtfully, “I really need to have one of those suits made...the buckles have such potential.”

  Sacha soon found herself being led once again onto the entry dais to the great ballroom. The chaos from months earlier was much the same as she remembered it, though perhaps it was even more frenetic, with more vendors and more entertainers all plying their talents to gain the council’s attention. The noise was nothing short of stupendous.

  If this is the preparation, what must the festival be like? Sacha’s last visit to this affair had been too close on the heels of her sister’s death, and she had not truly absorbed the fullness of the work at hand. From what Kesh had told her, each vendor had to be approved before they were allowed to show and sell their wares at each festival.

  “Sloane!” Meagan, Marcella’s younger sister, called. Her voice drifted up through the clatter of artisans and entertainers below. Her wave and quick pace were the only reasons she could be seen in the multicolored sea of people. Meagan forced her way through the crowd, speaking apologies as she came. Those jostled turned with looks of irritation until laying eyes on the young beauty and hearing her plea for pardon. Once she was seen and heard, the crowd parted easily for the spry girl. As different as the two sisters might be in age, they shared a comeliness and charisma few could deny.

  Sacha laughed as she watched her youngest cousin navigate the crowd. The girl had matured as well if not as much as her older sister. Sacha clapped her hands in delight as Meagan finally made her way up the stairs. “Good show, my cousin!”

  Meagan rushed into Sacha and gave her a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, Sloane. It’s so good to see you!”

  Sacha returned the embrace. “You too, Meagan,” she whispered. Answering to Sloane’s name had become so habitual these past months that Sacha was concerned that she might one day lose herself entirely. Her cousin’s use of the name, however, brought forward echoes of the old pain and awkwardness as she accepted the affection that should have been her sister’s.

  Meagan pulled away. “We were so worried about you. They always told us you were resting or out on errands or flying when we would come to visit.” She frowned. “Bella and I believed you were being held prisoner.”

  From Sacha’s right, Marcella scoffed. “Foolish.”

  If only you knew, Sacha thought. She smiled, hiding the truth of her feelings. “As you can see, I’m fine.” She held out her wrists for examination. “Look, no shackles.”

  Meagan narrowed her eyes dubiously then arched a brow as she studied Sacha’s smooth skin. “I suppose they look all right.” She planted her fists on her hips in an almost perfect imitation of her sister. “Well then, have you been avoiding us?”

  Wonderful, more guilt. Sacha’s cousins had left home to provide comfort for her and Sloane by order of their families but also out of love. How must it look to them, not knowing the truth of what had happened to the twin princesses? What did it say to them about Sloane that she had spared only the barest of thoughts and moments for these young women?

  “Forgive me, cousin,” Sacha said, reaching out gently to touch Meagan’s cheek. “I haven’t been fair to you. We’ll have a day out in the country—”

  “Ooh, the fishing wharfs. I’d like to see the fishermen near the falls!” Meagan interrupted, hurt feelings quickly forgotten. “Today?” she asked hopefully.

  Sacha laughed at her cousin’s sudden shift in attitude. “Possibly, but if not, then soon,” she promised.

  Marcella stepped up next to Sacha. “Now scurry off.” She waved her hand at her sister.

  Meagan promptly stuck her tongue out. “I’ll leave when I’m ready,” she retorted.

  “She’s just like you,” Sacha said, continuing to laugh.

  Marcella gave Sacha a rueful grin but said nothing.

  Meagan’s countenance changed abruptly from that of an annoying bratling to that of a well-mannered lady of the court with the bearing of a young queen. “I have not yet fulfilled the task I was sent to perform,” she said haughtily and then stood there with her arms crossed in stolid silence.

  “Well? Out with it, you little swamp rat!” Marcella barked, unfazed by her sister’s confidence.

  Meagan’s noble mask cracked when she glared at Marcella. She turned to address Sacha, ignoring her older sister completely. “I have been sent by the prince to find you and bring you to him.”

  The prince, Sacha thought in surprise. “Alexander is here?”

  Meagan nodded with a growing smile.

  Sacha looked across the crowd. From her high vantage, finding Alexander took little effort. He was at the far end of the ballroom, standing on a stage and wearing finely crafted silks that fit closely to his well-proportioned body. Gathered around him were Sacha’s other two cousins, Bella and Leanne, and an assortment of Basinian nobles, including the Lady Barrelon. As soon as she found him, Sacha could feel the weight of his attention, even at this distance. He nodded and raised his hand, beckoning.

  “Come on,” Meagan said as she took Sacha’s hand and pulled her down the steps.

  Marcella quickly took Rouke’s arm, drawing the armsman close to her side. “I would feel remiss without escort, good sir,” she drawled as they trailed in Meagan and Sacha’s wake. “I thank you for your strong arm.”

  “I...of course, milady,” Rouke stammered as he too was dragged down the stairs and into the jostling crowd. Despite Marcella’s playful advances, the soldier kept vigilant watch over the milling sea of people as they walked. He took care to never be more than an arm’s reach from Sacha.

  The platform on which Alexander and his company stood was as intricately worked as any of the features of the palace. Richly polished winewood had been carved and expertly worked into organic shapes that provided function and beauty in equal measure. Fanciful creatures, men, and elves marched in procession around the wainscoting, while trees and images that might have been an artist’s rendition of ethereal spirits grew up from the pedestal bases to support a curved wooden backdrop that sheltered and framed those on the stage.

  Sacha unconsciously smoothed the pleats of her dress as she approached the stage. Surely, a not-so-quiet voice in her head shouted, this will be the day the prince denounces you as a fraud. She squashed the fear ruthlessly, smiling as warmly as she could as she ascended to meet him. Looking back on the circumstances that had led to her current situation, Sacha found herself grateful for the arranged marriage. The natural awkwardness of the arrangement lent itself to her subterfuge. If the relationship had grown from friendship and mutual interest first, as had her own affair with Renee, there would be no way this man would accept her as a replacement for her sister regardless of the similarity of face and form. There were just too many shared experience
s that bred the habit of a relationship that would tip him off to the fact that something was seriously amiss. Even as it was, some moments were more difficult than others.

  “My lord,” she said, embracing him formally with a kiss on the cheek.

  Alexander’s expression hardened somewhat, but he returned her kiss and embrace without a hitch. “My lady,” he replied, laying deeper meaning into the words than simple respect. “I believe I have a few people in my company that would be thrilled to speak with you.” He gestured to Leanne and Bella. The former gave Sacha a subdued smile and nod, while the latter beamed with delight at seeing her older cousin.

  Sacha almost wept. It seemed an age since she and her cousins had last seen each other. She opened her arms for them to come to her.

  That was all Bella needed to rush forward and take Sacha in a grappling embrace every bit as vibrant as Meagan’s had been. Leanne walked over more sedately but with happiness sparkling in her eyes. They bombarded Sacha with questions, and Meagan joined in, caught up in the excitement.

  The now-familiar lies came easily as the inquiry stretched on. Yes, her studies of Basinian history were most enlightening, and no, she had not seen any sign of “Sacha” during her frequent outings on the Rohdaekhann. Sacha thanked Eos for the time she had been given to practice the role as Sloane before actually having to talk to those who knew her sister best. Now Sloane’s more erect posture and formal modes of speech had become Sacha’s own. If she did slip, none of the cousins seemed to take it amiss.

  “REALLY?” Bella squeaked, amazed, when Sacha mentioned that she might be able to train in the aviary as a stablehand for the Rhadoken.

  Sacha glanced at Alexander, who gave her a subtle nod.

  “Yes, really,” Sacha answered with a smile.

  Bella trembled with excitement. Her wide-eyed enthusiasm warred with her trained decorum until she almost vibrated in place, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Inside, Sacha knew, the girl was leaping about in excitement and already envisioning herself taking to the skies on the back of her own Rohdaekhann. Sacha was about to caution her cousin about the giant birds when the Minister of Trade and his companion joined them on the stage.

  “My prince, my lady.” Lord Graves bowed stiffly to Alexander and Sacha in turn. “I am pleased to see you both on this fine day.” The old man’s stern gaze was cool enough to cast doubt on both his joy and the quality of the day.

  Sacha had seen the Minister of Trade only a handful of times since her insertion into Sloane’s life, but she did remember him from years ago when he had visited Stone Mountain. As a girl, she had been interested in the varying cultures and people outside Pelos. Even at such a young age, she had begun to daydream of finding a place to escape the stoic walls of Stone Mountain.

  Lord Graves had been indisposed during most of his visit but had found a few moments here and there to speak with her and Sloane about the wonders to be found outside of Pelos’s borders. He had not been young then, but even so, the passing years had aged him significantly. Hair that had been salt and pepper was now solid gray, and the defining wrinkles of his face had deepened into chasms. Despite his aging, the lord still retained a strong jaw that was permanently set in a clench that indicated he would be the last man standing if the contest was a battle of wills.

  His companion, however, was anything but old. She was a stunning dark-eyed girl who couldn’t have been much older than Leanne. Sacha remembered the girl being introduced as Walina Clearwater, or something close to that. The girl’s continual presence around the minister had been odd until it had been explained that Walina was apprenticed to him. However, Sacha suspected the girl’s constant hovering and fawning glances indicated a relationship far deeper than simple affection shared between student and master.

  Alexander turned to face the new arrivals. “It is good to see you as well, Minister.”

  “Might I have a word, Your Highness?” the minister asked. He gestured to a relatively secluded spot in one of the corners of the stage.

  The prince gave the older man a questioning look but nodded. “Of course.”

  Walina started to go with them until the minister stopped her with a curt wave of his hand. “Stay and chat, my dear,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.” The girl obediently bowed her head and turned back to Sacha and her cousins. Instead of initiating a conversation, Walina just stood, gazing at everyone with a slight smile at the corners of her mouth.

  “We’re going to the wharf to see the fishermen near the falls,” Meagan blurted into the awkward silence. She had never been good about being properly mundane. Now her eyes were large with excitement as she looked at Walina. “I’m sure you’ve already seen them—hundreds of times, I’d guess.”

  Walina’s stiff grin turned into a full-blown smile at Meagan’s words. “I have. You will enjoy it when the fishermen hang a Baux fish. Bauxes are amongst the most aggressive of the fighting fish for certain, and they grow large here.”

  Meagan clapped her hands together. “I can’t wait. I wonder if they’ll let me try.”

  Walina arched a brow and looked Meagan up and down. “I don’t see why not. You seem strong enough.”

  Sacha watched her overzealous cousin flex her skinny arms at Walina, while Marcella shook her head and sighed. Sacha let the conversation between Meagan and Walina fall into the background, losing interest.

  The discussion between Lord Graves and the prince was what Sacha really wanted to be involved in, but the men had withdrawn beyond her ability to hear. The topic of their conversation was most certainly the raiding Wildmen. The savages were all anyone talked about in the palace these past weeks. Traders and merchants who had traveled from the south spoke of caravans being raided along the highways and remote villages burnt to the ground. The people were scared, and rightfully so. Almost the entire Basinian legion had been dispatched to deal with the invaders but had yet to get them under control.

  A large part of the problem was the fact that the Wildmen were tribal in sociology. Their reluctance to become one cohesive force made the prospect of pinning them down extremely difficult, if not impossible. No battle of any consequence could be had or won while the Wildmen remained so scattered.

  Sacha turned her gaze from the prince and her cousins to the crowded ballroom below. The huge table that the Ladies’ Council had gathered around was still the center of the activity. Many of the same women she had met months ago were working just as diligently now as they had then. She easily spotted Yandy Tilson and her mother amongst them. The younger woman’s precarious tower of hair would have made her easy to spot even if her prodigious bulk had not. She and her mother had a merchant wedged between them. The poor man was desperately trying to use a bolt of cloth as some sort of shield. Sacha could just make out his harried expression as he turned from one woman to the other, both ladies ranting as they snatched at the cloth clutched in his hands.

  “It might be difficult to believe,” Cora Barrelon said as she stepped up beside Sacha, unannounced. “But Belen and her daughter actually do have a fine eye for detail and value.”

  Sacha’s heart leapt into her throat. The old woman was quite stealthy for her age, or any age for that matter. Once in control of her surprise, Sacha eyed Cora with no small amount of skepticism. “True as that might be, I hope to be forgiven if I do not keep much time in their company.”

  Cora snorted softly. “I’m sure you already know that dealing with unpleasant people is the least of a royal’s burden. You would do well to humor those women, as irksome as they might be.”

  Sacha sighed. She knew all too well. “My apologies, Cora. I’ve been out of sorts as of late.”

  “I should say more than just of late,” Cora replied. “You’ve been at odds with your duties for months.”

  “I know. I’ve been absent from all your planning sessions but the one, and that one I could hardly be counted as present,” Sacha admitted. “You explained what an important role the festivals play in our city, and I
have allowed myself to become too engrossed in my own affairs. I would not have it said that I am unwilling to pull my own weight, particularly in view of certain opinions.” She nodded in the direction of the planning table. “It will only make my job as ruler harder if I am not respected by my peers and subjects. I cannot gain that respect if I do not lead, and I cannot lead when I am immersed only in myself. In this and much else, I plan to do better.” It felt as if a great weight fell from Sacha’s shoulders as she confessed her failings and promised to remedy them.

  Relief also flooded Cora’s tight features. “I had begun to worry that I had misjudged your character on the road from Pelos,” she stated frankly.

  Sacha flinched internally at the blunt words, but she tried not to let it show. She opened her mouth to respond, but Cora forestalled her with a raised hand.

  “I have spoken for you as I am able. Eos knows you have had an unfair amount of trauma between the arranged marriage, the loss of your sister, and the unfortunate attack by the grahl just as you were finding your wings. Fair or not, though, the longer you have refused to involve yourself, the stronger your opposition has become and the less ground I have had with which to defend you.” Cora shook her head gently with a wry expression. “It has not been easy, and as I said, I had begun to despair of finding again the strong and insightful young woman I had thought you to be.”

  Sacha knew Cora’s words to be true and could find no escape from them. “It seems as though I have a debt of thanks as well as an obligation of apology. You have both.”

  Cora nodded graciously in acceptance. “And I thank you, my lady.”

  Sacha turned to the table and the Tilsons, who had replaced the weaver with what appeared to be a dwarven smith. “How do you suggest I begin building bridges?”

  “Plan on being a part of the Ladies’ Council at least once a week, more if you can manage it,” Cora said promptly. “All the families that will be required for your future rule are represented at those meetings in some way. As the highest-ranking woman in the kingdom save for the queen, you have the potential to be the greatest influence on the Council. In addition, your presence will help Prince Alexander pass not-so-pleasant policy when the need arises...” Cora paused until Sacha glanced her way. “You are planning on ruling with Alexander, correct?”